


Boy on Fire

by SomeBratInAMask



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Circus, Babs as deus ex machina, Based heavily on Batman: Year Three, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Haly's Circus, Humor, Jaydick Week 2, Light Angst, M/M, Praise Kink, Read this if you really really need fluff, Sex in final chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-14 22:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7192490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeBratInAMask/pseuds/SomeBratInAMask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was almost impossible to envision Dick decked out in glitter and spandex. No matter how he’d reach out to stroke Eleanor as if he had seen greater heights than all the rainforests of the world could offer. No matter how his eyes danced like the circus or his lips played carnie games. Jason could not quite reconcile the kid before him with the Boy Wonder of small-time circus lore.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Jason joins Haly's Circus and learns to play with fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One: First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> For Jaydick Week 2!

Many thanks to the incredible [chili-dogs-and-cereal](http://chilidogs-and-cereal.tumblr.com/) for the amazing art!! If you're not already following them, I'd do so immediately! They're so talented and they love jaydick.

* * *

 

Jason missed the sunrise. He had been awake to watch the sun sink below the horizon, awake enough to compare it to a wrecked ship. He had been awake to watch as the street lamps turned on and liken them to Gothamite stars, the same ones drowned out by the city. He had been awake for the brief spat between a hooker and some lowlife in a car, hushed whispers that grew in volume and anger until Jason glanced up from the worn book Mrs. Walker had given him.

He had definitely been awake to get up close enough to the car to see the man was drunk, and then to not see much at all through his left eye. He might have been awake for the sticky kiss on his cheek and the tragic “sorry” murmured in a woman’s voice. But he was not awake for the sunrise. He was short one jacket, but at least his sneakers — crap when his mom bought them, worse now that his toes were peeking out — were safe.

The sound of a car horn possibly woke him. It could also have been the blinding sunlight over his eyes, or the chatter of people milling around the rundown restaurant he was passed out against. His left eye dragged open and he cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders, stood up. “Quite the shiner you got there,” a man said, a cigarette the length of a thimble posed lazily on his bottom lip. He had his thumb placed between the pages in a book that he waved at Jason. “Hope you don’t mind; took a gander at the story you’re reading. Yours, right? You were unconscious next to it.”

“‘s mine,” confirmed Jason. He reached out for it and the man gave it back. He tucked it in the waist of his jeans.

“Not a big reader myself,” the man confessed. “But I was bored. Been waitin' for a damn cab all day. You okay, boy?”

His neck was sore and his jacket was missing. He had slept for maybe an hour, two at best. He could feel that in his bones. There was a dull drumming in his head, too. “I got punched in the face and blacked out next to a greasy diner. Not even a little okay,” Jason answered.

The man laughed around his cigarette. It was a guttural, wheezing noise, but Jason kind of liked it. “The fact you ain’t hiding it is a sign you’re better than a lot of us.”

Jason stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “Guess so. Where you trying to go?

“A friend on West Main says he got tickets to Haly’s Circus if I got something he’s interested in.” The man made an “eh” sound. “Every now and then, it’s good to look at people higher than you are.” Then he laughed again, a deep shuddering noise. Jason cracked a smile.

“Never been to a circus before,” Jason admitted.

“Well, I don’t know what you’ve seen on TV, but this ain’t no Cirque du Soleil. Still good, though. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway. That rich Wayne guy, says he went last time Haly’s visited. He used the word ‘charmed.’” The man’s voice adopted an elevated inflection on the last word.

“Maybe I’ll go,” Jason contemplated. “See the Flying Graysons. I heard some stuff. Best act or something, right?”

The man’s eyebrows raised. “Boy, you got a ticket?”

Jason shook his head. “Nah. But I’m pretty handy.”

“If you say so,” the man replied doubtfully. “From your face, it looks like someone else was doing the handling.” He pointed at Jason’s swollen eye.

Jason glared. “Mind your own business,” he warned. “You get that ticket from your friend, you’ll see me with a cone of cotton candy.”

The man snickered. “Yeah? You gonna have a pretty acrobat on your arm, too?”

“If I do, you’ll owe me another cotton candy.”

“Heh, alright.” The man held out his hand. Jason grasped it and shook. “If I see you tonight, I’ll go straight to the candy stands. Big top can wait.”

There could be scalpers loitering near Haly’s. Jason didn’t want to waste what little he had on a travelling circus, but — he’d price compare. He glanced up at the sky, shielding his eyes with a hand over his head. “I better start walking then. See you,” he said to the man. “Or, you know, not.” He took off down the street, left eye throbbing and toes peering across the sidewalk.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t have enough money for a scalped ticket. He haggled for five minutes or so, but the man wasn’t stupid enough to sell for a price Jason could afford. He forewent a formal goodbye and impatiently headed toward the chain link fence encircling the bare bones of the big top. Workers in hard hats were everywhere. Tents were being heaved into the sky. Masked welders hunched over machinery. There were a couple more mundane structures already established, though they were farther off from the fence. Folks without uniforms were milling around those.

There was a distinct sense of prosaic order to the activity that circuses always lacked on TV. That would probably change once the gates opened. Jason wondered if watching the circus set up would detract from its magic, or if the process would add another element of enjoyment. He could go back home, without an answer, even if the locks were changed and no one would be inside. He could find someone willing to hire a fifteen year old, make some money doing whatever was available. If it was an actual business, he could even volunteer for closing time and sleep in the bathrooms.

Jason glanced around. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and Jason was invisible. Hopefully. He hopped the fence and quickly crouched behind a loading truck. He held his breath for a few moments, chest thumping wildly with excitement, until he was certain no one was coming. He exhaled, touched his chest calmly. Okay. He was here, in Haly’s Circus, without a ticket or security clearance. Now what?

Anything a circus could offer a trespasser was at his fingertips. The first adventure, then, would be finding an adventure. It sure beat making a chart of which public bathrooms were hiring. Tentatively, he stuck his head out from behind the truck and surveyed the parking lot. Some small, plain white tents dotted the area. A group of four sat out of the way, legs crossed and talking over paper plates of breakfast. There was even an elephant somewhat nearby. He could check out the boring structures on the opposite side. They were plastic blue eyesores and far enough away to be a challenge.

He locked onto the closest truck and darted toward it. He mapped out his following steps. The next truck was past the elephant, where a boy his age was petting its snout. There were no other hiding spaces in between. He would have to be fast. Jason checked his shoelaces, just in case, and _ran._

He had made it almost to the rear of the elephant when he was tackled to the cement. He caught himself in time to stop his nose from inverting into his brain on impact. His attacker sat up, but didn’t get off of him. Their hands pressed Jason’s shoulders down and their legs were on either side of his hips. “This isn’t Cirque du Soleil,” said a boy, tone so nonchalant it was dissonant with the fingers digging into Jason’s muscle. “I know _everyone_ here. I don’t know you.”

“I’m new,” Jason mumbled into the gravel. “Haly agreed to meet with me next time he got to Gotham.” He was naturally stronger than his peers; he tried to throw the boy off, but he was thoroughly pinned. “I got to tell you,” he grunted, “I expected a warmer welcome.”

“I also spotted you when you hopped the fence. I knew you’d run if I approached you immediately,” further explained the boy. He sounded proud. When Jason twisted his head to get a look at him, there was a smug smirk on the boy’s face.

“Then fucking say that first!” exclaimed Jason. “Don’t make me waste my breath.” He was still struggling to get up.

The boy appeared unbothered. “If it makes you feel any better, I think all breath is well-spent beneath me.” He grinned down at Jason wickedly. Something in the way his dark hair fell into his eyes as he did sent an electric jolt throughout Jason’s body. He increased his efforts to escape. “Hm, you’re being a little obvious,” commented the boy. “I’m going to get off you now before someone comes around. But, like, don’t run off. Mostly because you’ll definitely be noticed if you do. But, also?” He bared his teeth, equal parts happy and carnivorous. “I’m good on my legs. Meaning I’ll just catch you again. And honestly?” He jerked his chin as if to spotlight Jason’s black eye. “Your face could use all the mercy it can get.”

“Yeah, deal,” Jason spat, just wanting the boy’s weight off so his skin would stop burning and his crotch chafing on the ground. The boy, true to his word, stood up. Jason hurriedly got to his feet.

The boy motioned Jason forward. “Come on, behind Eleanor.” He patted the elephant’s great stomach before leaning against her casually. Jason did as he was told and trusted they were hidden. Mostly because he didn’t want to risk getting caught by leaving cover.

“I’m Dick.” Dick extended his hand. Jason stared at it witheringly until he dropped the offer.

“What kind of name is Dick?”

“A phallic one,” he acknowledged. “Better than your name, I bet.” Dick looked at him expectantly. “Which is?” he eventually prompted, gesturing for Jason to speak.

“Jason.” Beneath his head, Eleanor breathed steadily. “What do you do here?” he asked.

“Mostly we just talk. Sometimes, though, I’ll wash her too,” said Dick. It took Jason a moment to understand what he meant, but he was irritated when he figured it out.

“I don’t mean behind the elephant, smartass,” Jason snapped.

Dick giggled. He turned on his side, facing Jason directly. His cheek rested on the gray leathery expanse of his elephant. From this angle, Jason was able to tell his eyes were a very pale and playful blue. “I’m an acrobat.”

So, Jason probably wouldn’t have an acrobat on his arm. Did it count if it one was on top of him? He thought it did, ignoring context. “Like a Flying Grayson?” he asked.

“Those are the only acrobats Haly has, so yeah.” Dick’s smile, when it wasn’t smirking, was attractive — though still a touch self-congratulatory.

Jason made it a point not to seem impressed when he stated, “You’re the Boy Wonder.”

The smirk was back. “Cool, right? Meeting me?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Oh, totally. _My_ favorite part was you slamming my face into the pavement. Yours?”

“Everyone likes to criticize a gymnast’s landing,” Dick bemoaned. He pursed his lips. There were a few seconds of silence until he spoke again. “So. How _did_ you get that?” Dick twirled his finger near his own eye.

Jason glanced at the ground. Dick was wearing fuzzy blue slippers, Superman’s ‘S’ emblazoned atop. “I told a dude that his hooker wasn’t overpriced and that he was just a cheap bastard.” Jason looked up to gauge Dick’s reaction. His eyes were bulging and his jaw had slackened. “What?” he demanded. It was hard not to get on the defensive with the Boy Wonder himself staring at Jason like a sideshow.

“Are you _serious?”_

“If I was lying, I would’ve come up with something more interesting. Like, I insulted the Batman and he jammed a ninja star in my eye.”

“Oh!” said Dick excitedly. “I met him once when I was nine. He saved my parents from this — thing.” Dick shook his head. “Anyway, I suggested he call those ninja things ‘batarangs.’” He grinned cleverly. “Has that caught on?”

“How should I know what the Batman calls his weapons?”

“You _did_ get stabbed in the eye with one. Least you could do is ask what it was.”

Jason looked at him in mock-annoyance. “Shut it.”

“Fine, fine,” relented Dick, good-humored. “Next question: why are you here?”

Jason gave the question some thought. He turned on his side, too, so they both faced each other. He leaned in slightly. “I fucking _love_ clowns.”

Dick perked up. “Really?” he asked, like this was interesting.

“No. They’re terrifying freaks of nature.” When Dick muttered a “harsh,” Jason told him it was a Gotham thing. “I’m here because I bet another guy cotton candy that I’d be here with an acrobat on my arm.” It took Dick’s posture straightening for Jason to remember _he_ was an acrobat. By then, his face was hot enough to help Haly’s welders with their fancy equipment.

It was almost impossible to envision Dick decked out in glitter and spandex. No matter how he’d reach out to stroke Eleanor as if he had seen greater heights than all the rainforests of the world could offer. No matter how his eyes danced like the circus or his lips played carnie games. Jason could not quite reconcile the kid before him with the Boy Wonder of small-time circus lore.

“And are you...working on that?” Dick said slowly.

Jason pushed through the embarrassment. “I don’t know,” he replied. “Got any better-looking acrobats?” He twisted his head to the left and right, searching.

“I’ve been told my parents are spry for their age,” Dick intoned wryly.

That was almost worse. “Pass,” said Jason. “What about the people in those blue buildings? That’s where I’m trying to get.”

A minute breeze weaved through, raising the hairs on Jason’s bare arms. It ruffled the hair on Dick’s head, making the black strands look like a strip of silk caught in the wind. “Why do you want to go there?” Dick inquired.

“What else am I supposed to do? It’s not like there’s rides set up.”

“Maybe if you waited for the opening hour, we’d be more fun,” Dick scolded.

Jason turned his jean pockets inside-out. “No ticket.” He stuffed the pockets back in. “Wouldn’t be able to get into the big top anyway.”

“Hm.” Dick thunked his spine against Eleanor. “There’s nothing interesting in the blue buildings, I can vouch for _that._ Usually one of them is for classes, but it’s a Saturday.”

Actually, that was interesting in itself. “The circus has a school?” repeated Jason.

Dick scrunched his nose. “Eh, I wouldn’t call it a _school._ Not by what I know of public schools, at least. There’s only a handful of minors who travel with us, so we don’t have an entire academy packed into a shed. But, you know, we have a curriculum and there’s tests.”

“Wow.” Jason rubbed his nose. The cool breeze was beginning to affect his sinuses. “I guess I assumed you guys lived outside the realm of normal people stuff.”

Dick smiled patiently. “We’re normal people. Just more spandex.”

Jason snorted. “More normal than the Batman probably.”

“I’ve seen us save lives, too, though,” argued Dick. “Not all heroes wear capes.”

“Not _just_ heroes wear capes,” Jason countered.

Dick pointed at him. “Truth. I’ve got a red one that ends mid-back. Haven’t worn it in a while, though.” Dick appeared lost in thought. When he snapped out of whatever memories he was experiencing, his words took on a purposeful tone. “Hey, how long until your parents expect you home?”

The question hit Jason like a punch to his other eye. He felt his muscles coil and he crossed his arms protectively. “Don’t have parents. No home, either.”

“Did you have a spat with them, or something?”

“No. Mom got cancer last year and Dad was shot dead last month,” Jason curtly supplied. Laid out like that, he could see why his situation seemed absurd. He’d believe it, had it been some other kid telling his life story. But Jason had also seen worse. He would believe wholesale any sob story, especially one from a Gothamite.

Dick’s brows knitted, either out of sincere concern or reasonable doubt. “Do you live with anyone?”

Jason could not believe a homeless kid was judging him for being homeless. “Not yet,” he said, eying Dick skeptically. The state was probably after him, but he was good at slipping under the radar.

Dick pushed himself off of Eleanor. “I’ve got an idea. Follow me,” he beckoned. He pointed at one of the larger white tents in the lot, then strode toward it without further explanation. Jason followed.

As they walked, people waved at Dick. Many had plastic forks in their hands, fluffy pieces of scrambled eggs or pancakes skewered on them. A few questioned who Jason was, but Dick merely smiled and said they would see. Jason remained quiet, letting Dick briefly introduce the ones who greeted them or breezily skip past the ones he didn’t feel like naming. At one point, he even stopped to pet a tiger. “We’ve had her since she was a baby,” Dick assured. He sat on his knees and raked his fingers through the orange fur. “Wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone a person.” He signaled for Jason to touch her back.

She had absolutely massive teeth. Her purr was less than welcoming, but Dick took his hand and gently guided it toward her. The fur was a little coarse, but warm from the sun and thick. When the tiger did not react whatsoever to Jason touching her, he laughed in relief. He and Dick smiled at each other.

The circus was transforming rapidly; the parking lot was a whirlwind of hard hats, exotic animals, and multicolored tents. Mobile racks carrying dazzling costumes were wheeled around. A broad-shouldered woman holding a large bin full of wigs hustled by. There was still no magic, but Jason was starting to detect a faint energy thrumming throughout Haly’s people.

Eventually they reached the white tent. Dick pushed aside the flap, revealing an entire cafeteria. Long tables took up the room as people chatted and ate. Dick was stretching his neck, obviously looking for somebody. There were rows of buffets with an array of hot and cold meals, including bacon and fruit. Flies buzzed over the food, but the overwhelming aroma awoke Jason’s stomach nonetheless. It had never occurred to him to eat. When was the last time he had done that?

His stomach growled. Despite the cacophony in the tent, Dick noticed. His smile for Jason was lopsided. He grabbed a paper plate from one of the buffets and handed it to him. “Here, go crazy. I’m going to look for Haly.” He set off, a jovial skip in his step.

Jason glanced around, wondered momentarily if he belonged here and if anyone would would kick him out. Then his stomach growled again, so he shrugged and piled food onto his plate. He leaned against the buffet table and occupied himself with people-watching, shoveling bites of egg and honeydew cubes in his mouth. He heard his name being shouted when he was about three-quarters done. He twisted his head and saw Dick a little ways off, waving his arm. Jason made his way towards him, plate in hand.

Dick sat across from a man with a bald head and a stout body. “Jason, this is Haly, the owner of this fine establishment,” he introduced, tone smarmy. Haly gestured for Jason to sit. Jason nudged Dick to slide over.

“How do you do,” asked Jason. He thought about it, then added, “Sir.”

“I’m doing very well, kid. And you?”

Jason shrugged. “Okay.”

“Dick here tells me that you’d like a job at Haly’s Circus,” informed Haly. He crossed his big arms over the table. Dark hair covered them in a thicket. Dick nodded chipperly and stared at them.

“I don’t have any weird skills,” Jason blurted. What the hell was wrong with him?

Haly chuckled. “Don’t need any to work here. We’re always in need of cooks and strapping young men to load equipment onto trains.”

This was too good to be true. No way could Haly, _the personal owner of the circus,_ be seriously considering him without a clue who he was. “You’d hire me?” Jason asked.

Haly smiled. “Why not? Dick sure raved about you. Had no idea he had such a treasured family friend in Gotham, but I’m glad you two were able to meet up.” He tilted his head. “Would’ve appreciated you meeting up somewhere _off_ premises, but Dick’s always been a good kid.”

Jason side-eyed Dick questionably, but Dick’s face betrayed nothing. Jason returned his focus to Haly. “So, what? Would I live here?”

“I do have some travelling jobs in mind, yes.” Haly stabbed a tiny sausage with his fork. “If that is what suits you.”

“I’m fifteen.”

“And a ward of the state, I imagine,” Haly replied. “That’s not a problem, if you’re comfortable with signing a basic contract that would place you under the circus’ jurisdiction until you’re eighteen.”

Jason toyed with his fork and tried to make sense of the conversation. “You’re adopting me?”

Haly set down his fork. “Not quite. You’d be a ward of the circus itself, operating as an independent so long as you don’t break the contract.”

“How would I break the contract?”

“By leaving the circus. You would have to quit or be fired,” answered Haly. “You do that while you’re still a minor and you default to being the state’s responsibility.”

Jason didn’t know what to say, except, “Thank you so much, sir.”

Beside him, Dick clapped and bounced a bit. “Woot!”

Jason rolled his eyes and bit his lip so he wouldn’t smile _too_ big.

 

* * *

 

When the Flying Graysons were announced next, an ecstatic cheer ripped through the crowd and rendered the big top nearly deafening. Jason stood among a couple circus performers and tech backstage, trying to peek at the stands through the flap. Truth be told, he had hoped to get a glimpse of the man he had met only hours earlier, back when his life was completely different. Audience faces were, unfortunately, nearly indistinguishable. Everything was equal parts dark and bright. The ring was lit up in reds, greens, and yellows. Children eagerly waved their glow-sticks in the sweaty, closed-in air. The smell of popcorn and cotton candy was mouth-watering.

“So?” Dick waggled his eyebrows. “This better than a grandstand ticket, or what?” He was wearing these scaly green panties that aroused in Jason feelings of second-hand embarrassment and, ah, general arousal. He even had a yellow cape, which drew no attention to his lean thighs and so was perfectly safe to laugh at.

Jason grinned. Nervous jitters rolled off the performers. The crowd’s excitement was palpable. Delight was infectious and it livewired every nerve in his body.

“Come on, Robin,” Mary, Dick’s mother, said. “You can talk to your friend later.” She met Jason’s eyes. “You’re welcome to eat with us tonight, by the way. John and I would love to get to know you.”

“Um, yeah, let’s do that,” Jason agreed.

John and Mary arranged themselves at the flap, preparing to climb the ladder and make their entrance at the top. Dick watched them for a second, then he galloped toward Jason. Jason was about to ask what he wanted when Dick’s hand was under his chin. He pulled him forward and kissed him at the corner of his lips. “Wish me luck!” he called, and was on the ladder with his parents in a blur of movement.

Jason barely managed to choke out an _almost_ audible  _“Luck.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haly folded his arms atop the cafeteria table. His face was round and benign. "Well, kid, what can you do?" he asked.
> 
> Jason swallowed the piece of bacon he had been chewing on. "Set myself on fire," he joked, smirking.
> 
> Haly clapped his hands together. "Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "How soon can you start?"
> 
> Jason's face drained. "Wait, what?"


	2. Day Two: First Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Well, I’m certainly more familiar with it than you are. Talk about delusions of expertise,” Jason countered. Hell, yeah. One point for him; absolutely no points, go back to your own stupid train cart, for Dick._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> It's fine that Dick is perfect. What's not fine is how _imperfect_ Jason is.

Jason’s head rested against the wall as he sat cross-legged on his bed. The tracks they were on were clearly old. The usual tumult of the train was punctuated frequently today by sudden jolts that rattled his cart and banged the back of his skull. If he were to look outside his small window, he’d see nothing but overgrown grass the color of fool’s gold. “Welcome to the Midwest,” he said aloud. His words were cut off by a cough that racked his chest. Everything in him was dry. It felt like a dragon was scaling his throat, its clawed wings fanning out in a column of smoke.

A knock sounded at his door. Jason grabbed a water bottle from the floor and wetted his throat. It burned going down. The knock sounded again. “Enter!” he called. Another jolt from the tracks and he wiped the dribble on his chin with his arm.

The knob twisted before being released. “It’s locked, Jay,” Dick informed from the other side.

Right. A healthy habit Jason had formed in Crime Alley, though an inconvenient one in Haly’s Circus. Everyone always wanted to hang out. This train was, hands-down, the friendliest neighborhood Jason knew. “I’ll guess you have to come back later when the shop’s open,” Jason jested.

“Jason,” Dick warned.

“Alright, alright, chill your pixie boots.” Jason stood and walked towards the door, muffling another cough. He swung the door open, bowing slightly and spreading his arm in a “proceed” fashion. Dick proceeded, a small gift bag around his wrist that he set beside him on Jason’s bed. He wondered briefly what it was for, but decided to wait for Dick to talk about it.

“I heard you coughing,” was the first thing Dick said instead. Jason closed the door harder than necessary and told himself to breathe in, out. When he finished breathing, he opened his eyes. “You’re irritated I brought it up,” Dick commented.

Jason stood in front of Dick sitting on his bed and folded his arms. “It _does_ seem to be every day with you.”

“Only because you won’t listen. You’re not being safe. Fire-breathing is incredibly dangerous and you’re not taking that into consideration.” As he lectured, his hands danced around. Sometimes it was cute, how expressive Dick was. Other times, Jason wanted to knock his hands down. It was obnoxious. He liked to get on his high-horse, but couldn’t even articulate a single point without flailing.

“Look,” Jason began. He could be patient. He could explain. “I’ve been studying this. I know what I am doing. The reason you think it’s _so incredibly dangerous_ is because you can’t do it.” Dick opened his mouth to protest, but Jason held up his palms. “I know, I know it hurts to hear you’re not actually perfect and capable of everything — ”

“Excuse you!”

“But I think it’s fair to leave the pretty flips to you and the fire safety regulations to me. Sound fair?”

“No!” Dick’s brows were furrowed and his jaw had dropped. He was so affronted it was, frankly, kind of entertaining. “That’s not fair at all! I didn’t come here to _challenge your expertise,_ or whatever delusion you’ve got going on — ”

Jason laughed curtly. “Nice, great jab there.”

Dick held up his finger like the feisty star of a reality TV show. “Don’t be a hypocrite; you’re being an ass too right now. You only picked up fire-dancing in the past six months, yet you act like you’re already a master of it.”

“Well, I’m certainly more familiar with it than you are. Talk about delusions of expertise,” Jason countered. Hell, yeah. One point for him; absolutely no points, go back to your own stupid train cart, for Dick.

“I don’t have to be an expert to know you’re going about this the wrong way,” said Dick. “I get you’re desperate to get in the ring, but there’s no way Haly is letting you out there if you can’t demonstrate proper precautions with your own art form.”

Jason sneered. Then he coughed. It hurt, and Jason obviously winced. One point for Dick, dammit. “What are you even afraid of, Dick?” asked Jason. “It’s not like there’s a chance I’ll upstage your act.”

Whatever he said, it wasn’t winning him the fight. Rather than bristling, Dick simply looked curious. After a moment, Dick agreed. “No, you’re right. That would never happen.” An image of Jason dangling Dick over the train tracks flashed through his mind. “Is that what this is about, though?” Dick questioned. “You think I’m so petty and insecure that I would sabotage your chance in the show?” Any previous trace of anger had disappeared from Dick’s face. Jason realized at once that winning the fight now would be infinitely more difficult. How did Jason bait someone who was _disappointed_ in him?

Jason didn’t have an answer. The words “petty” and “insecure” had never described Dick. Even if he was that kind of guy (which he wasn’t, because he was an Upstanding Person), he never had _reason_ to be jealous. When they were first learning each other, Jason believed that perfection followed Dick at the heels. It didn’t. Nothing Dick possessed was effortless; everything amazing about him he had clawed his way to achieve. Dick didn’t allow himself to be jealous. He had too much ambition.

Yet the truth was staring at Jason through Dick’s eyes. Jason had dragged them into a competition, and the worst part was that he was so below Dick’s league that it never registered as a challenge until Jason spelled it out for him. Jason didn’t know what to say. “Maybe?” He sighed. The question mark clung to the statement and made Dick’s face sickeningly sympathetic.

“Oh, Jay,” said Dick in his Let’s Hug It Out voice. “I didn’t mean to come off like that. I’d love for you to perform with us. You just worry me with the fire-breathing. I want you to take it slower, practice it less so your lungs can heal.” Dick stood up from the bed. Jason had shot up since his time in the circus and he had two inches on him now. “Focus on your dancing for now, you know?”

“I’m bored with the fire fan. I want a challenge,” Jason insisted.

Dick nodded. “I know. It’s why I came here, believe it or not.” Dick turned around and picked up the gift bag. He passed it to Jason with a coy smile.

Jason gave Dick a suspicious look before discarding scraps of newspaper and pulling out a box. _Fire Poi Kit_ marched in bold white font atop the shiny black lid. “Holy shit,” he said.

Dick bounced on his feet. “Right? I wanted to do something nice for you, what with all the work you’ve been doing. Classes, your job, and fire practice. I could never juggle all that. Pun intended.”

“Because I’ll be juggling fire.”

“Because you’ll be juggling fire.” Dick grinned. He moved his hands over the box, hovering his long fingers over Jason’s. He had the urge to touch the back of Dick’s hand with his thumb, to lace their fingers together. To test how far Jason could go before Dick caught the hint and backed away. Jason didn’t budge. “Do you like it?” Dick asked.

It meant more to him than Jason wish it did. A part of him wanted Dick to repeat how he couldn’t handle everything that Jason was handling. He could tell Dick to say it, that Jason was doing well. That Dick was impressed by him. That he wasn’t a mistake and that he had every right to demand an audience. He wanted Dick to tell him how special _he_ felt that Jason was beside him.

Jason moved his thumb less than an inch. Their fingers touched around the box. “Yeah, I do,” he confessed. Maybe, hopefully, Dick was relieved to know that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope no one is too disappointed by this chapter. While it does introduce Jason's talent, I am afraid that the prompt seemed too early in the relationship Jay and Dick are developing to have a place in the overall plot.
> 
> Good news, though: chapter three (which is already finished) will see the return of the circus. Jason and Dick will both be in the circus game, and so will a new player! 
> 
> (I had fun writing chapter three, if anyone can tell.)


	3. Day Three: First Time Realizing They're in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Jason arranged himself in the center of curtain, touching his poi together to light the other, and waited for his signal. He burst through the curtains and let the ringleader’s booming announcement fill him with confidence. “Ladies and gentlemen, clowns and acrobats,” they spoke, voice revving like an engine, “with great pleasure I bring you — the boy on fire, Ignacio!”_  
>  Jason finally has his first big performance in the circus.

Tony Zucco was released in the nick of time. Drexel had warned him of the mobsters’ increasing anxieties concerning the ledger as his years in prison wore on. Attempted murder should’ve landed him in prison for another two years, but with Taft on the committee, he was out sooner than he could’ve hoped for. He requested protection upon leaving the penitentiary and made sure his boys stood guard at home. Even now, when he thought about the Batman, his blood boiled.

But he had already lost far too much time and money because of the vigilante. He wouldn’t foolishly go after the Batman. He’d avoid him to the best of his abilities and focus on building profit. He knew where to start, too, but he needed a plane ticket to get there.

And a fresh face to throw the Bat off.

Tony kicked off his shoes and dropped his blazer on the carpet. He threw himself onto the beat-up brown couch without pomp, sighing to himself and soaking up his return home. He stretched until he reached the remote on the coffee table and began channel-surfing. Only once he had thoroughly relaxed by an episode of Springer did he dig his phone from his pantsuit and dial the number. The person answered on the second ring.

_“Zucco? You out now, yeah?”_

“You got that right, Michael. I’m back and it’s fucking fantastic. How are the kids?” Tony rested his phone on his ear and tucked his arms against his chest. His couch was a little lumpy, but god, was it beautiful. He had forgotten the smell of his own house. He could breathe it in, he _would_ breathe it in, even if it would never be enough. It felt so good.

 _“Eh, they’re older. Not wiser. Katie won’t quit crying about boys at her school and Dylan is a disappointing little bitch.”_ Tony snorted at Michael’s review. He had dodged a bullet himself when his first wife died of cancer. Bless her heart. _“Maria loves them, though, so I guess I do too,”_ Michael finished. _“Why’d you call? You know I love hearing from ya’, but a game of catch-up is better suited for a dinner together. Don’t ya’ think?”_

“Ha, we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

_“We sure do, man.”_

“But that’s not why I called.”

_“Oh, yeah?”_

“Yeah. I called ‘cause I’ve got a plane ticket to North Dakota and a potential $20,000 with your name on it. How’s that sound, Michael?”

_“Sounds like you’ve got a job for me. Can’t say business has been booming, so. Shoot me the details.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Jason was fidgeting. He had realized this a couple minutes ago and hadn’t the willpower to stop. He kept twisting the gold buttons on his sleeveless vest. Whenever he rolled his shoulders, the epaulets would jingle. His bangs, bleached white on impulse last week, fell into his eyes more than they usually did. He felt like beadwork. He was a million tiny details that threatened to spill if the artist wasn’t exact in putting him together.

Fellow performers and their stylists were gathered in back room of the big top, either getting ready for their acts or staying out of the way of those who were. Haly had saved up enough money for a beautiful TV hooked up to cameras in the front. Jason no longer had to peer through the curtain to watch his family. Costumes were more extravagant, more performers had been hired, and the tents were bigger with better tech. Haly’s was moving up in the circus world.

They were farther back from the arena, so the music wasn’t deafening, but everyone still had to yell to be heard. Jason was perched on a fold-out chair close to the TV. He was ready by now, fully costumed and hydrated. He was up next. Activity milled about him, crashing waves around a solitary rock. That was what it was like in his head anyway. He was in the center of chaos and couldn’t run. All he could do was watch the screen intently.

The Flying Graysons wound their legs around suspended bars and threw themselves into the open air. Jason secretly fancied them time travelers when they were on stage; how they traversed empty atmosphere and bent physics, catching each other in the fleeting instants a bar still supported them. They abandoned the concrete so easily. It took special people to find no more safety on solid ground than in a free-fall. The Graysons, Jason never stopped discovering, were incredibly special.

They had traded in their reds, yellows, and greens some time ago for shades of blue. They seemed slinkier this way, less show-business and more celestial. Light stripes fanned their chests like wings. Jason honed in on Dick. He knew the Boy Wonder’s tricks as meticulously as he knew the upward corner of Dick’s lips whenever he smiled. There was no mystery in his flips and leaps. Instead, Jason followed Dick’s breaths. Paid attention to the placement of his hands when he caught his mother and the strain in his muscles when he tossed his father. He pulled at his buttons and searched for the boy in _Wonder._

“Would you quit fondling yourself?” Joanna came up from behind. She was a dog trainer with curly blonde hair and body-builder muscles that seemed almost supple beneath her sparkly halter dress.

 _“The Flying Graysons are a tough act to follow,”_  Jason absently echoed an old Haly’s Circus adage.

“Yeah, well, so is fire. And you’ve got people after you, so quit your bitching and have some compassion for the clowns,” Joanna said flatly.

Her voice carried and, somewhere in the room, Lauren “Lulu the Clown” shouted a _fuck you, Jo._

One thing that didn’t change: the emotion. The nervousness and exertion that drenched them all in the salty odor of sweat. The anticipation before, the ecstasy during, and the pride after. (Sometimes the mortification, like when a Xing Sister dropped a plate she was balancing and replayed that moment the rest of the night). The first night Jason had been behind the ring, the energy was intoxicating. Now it was everything. The difference between witnessing the backstage bedlam and being a part of it was the difference between being drunk and having all his blood replaced with wine.

“I’ve never mixed parkour with fire poi in a performance,” Jason reminded. He had also never had a ten-minute act, or one at the climax of the show. He knew this was Haly saying, _“This is it. You’re being recognized. Don’t screw it up.”_

Joanna smacked his hand away from his buttons. “No, you haven’t. But tomorrow you will have. And then you’ll never shut up about how awesome you are, even though we’ll see right through your bravado to the nervous wreck you are,” she predicted, tone pleasant.

“What the fuck?” Jason said.

Joanna patted his embellished shoulder. “You’ll kick ass.”

Jason obediently sat on his hands so he wouldn’t touch his vest. He and Joanna watched The Flying Graysons for the rest of their performance, Joanna applauding when Dick did a quadruple backflip and whistling whenever the camera briefly panned on John’s butt. Upon their entrance backstage, all three of them were shiny with sweat and taut with adrenaline.

Jason stood from his chair as Dick approached him. “You ready?” he asked, panting so heavily his shoulders rose and fell.

“If I fuck up, I’m just going to blame your poi sticks.” Jason was kidding, but the self-excuse did come with some comfort.

“Naturally. I’m going to get changed real quick, okay?” said Dick. “My spandex is giving me a wedgie.” As he walked past, Jason checked his ass to see if he was right. The blue fabric was caught between his plump cheeks so tight it could’ve been a second skin. He smirked and immediately got a punch to his arm from Joanna. Rolling his eyes at her, he grabbed his poi sticks from the top of a box. She helped light them, all the while his heart keeping rhythm to the percussion blasting from the speakers.

Jason arranged himself in the center of curtain, touching his poi together to light the other, and waited for his signal. He burst through the curtains and let the ringleader’s booming announcement fill him with confidence. “Ladies and gentlemen, clowns and acrobats,” they spoke, voice revving like an engine, “with great pleasure I bring you — _the boy on fire, Ignacio!”_ Jason grinned, fingers wrapped around the straps of the poi sticks, and flipped his body. Whoops and hollers shot into the air like sparks when he landed on his feet.

Jason ran forward, spinning his poi sticks clockwise before flipping backwards. He skidded up walls and rotated the fire in a wheel over his head. The beat guided him from one trick to the next, encouraged his hips to sway, and drove gasps and claps and hoots from the audience surrounding him from all sides. He watched the flames breathe and dance with him and thought, _“This is beautiful. I’m creating something beautiful.”_

At the end, he bowed. He was exhilarated. He got to share that feeling with the audience. In some small fashion, Jason was pretty sure he had set the world on fire and it wasn’t burning a path to hell. Jason had done something very, very good. And he would get to do this every night. People would leave, their memory of him a lit match on the way home.

Once again backstage, Joanna had taken his chair and Jason spotted Dick on the floor. He was in pajamas now, though glittery makeup still covered his face. He had his knees pulled up to his chest as he rested against a box. Dick smiled up at him as Jason set his extinguished poi sticks atop the box. “Got my clothes and threw them over my spandex right here. Managed to maneuver out of my costume with my pajamas over it,” Dick explained, laughing at the image he painted. He nodded at the TV screen. “Didn’t miss a minute. You were breath-taking, Jay.”

If Jason inspected this moment, the magic might disappear. Dick was curled up and tired, stage makeup dissonant with his sleep-weighted eyelids. Jason wanted to pick him up and hold him against his chest, to carry him onto the bus until they pass out together on their train. Jason swallowed the desire. “It’ll be even better when I integrate fire-breathing,” he deflected.

Dick pursed his lips wryly. “Yes. I imagine your act will be breath-taking for an entirely different reason then.”

Jason lowered himself onto the floor and sat beside him. Dick dropped his head on Jason’s shoulder. Jason brushed Dick’s bangs out of his eyes and Dick peered at him, the corner of his lips tugging into a coquettish smirk. That’s when it occurred to Jason, and he thought it was kind of funny, in the ironic way his life had a way of panning out. He recalled the first time he met Dick, how he had told him he was supposed to have an acrobat on his arm, how Richard Grayson had fallen short of the advertised Flying Grayson. It would figure that the Boy Wonder soaring the sky would be the one to pull Jason under with all his death-defying charm and charismatic flash.

It wasn’t. It was Richard Grayson in a baggy t-shirt and leggings watching Jason from the sidelines that he fell in love with.

It was Dick, curled into a tired ball, calling Jason _breath-taking._

“Hey, Dick,” Jason said into his ear, so he wouldn’t have to risk raising his voice over the music.

Dick yawned. “Yeah?”

“I’m going to ask you out now, like on a date, but if you think that’s weird then just pretend to be asleep,” Jason murmured.

There was a still moment where neither of them spoke. Then Dick made the most obnoxious snoring sound he had ever heard. Jason jerked back and cuffed the side of Dick’s head. “Asshole!” accused Jason.

Dick was laughing, shoulders shaking as he kept his face pressed into the crook of Jason’s neck. Jason tipped his head over the box, hoping his skin was dark enough to hide the heat in his cheeks. He waited for Dick’s snickers to peter off. Once he was calm, Dick buried his nose deeper and pressed his lips to Jason’s skin. “I’m awake,” he said. “If that answers your question.”

Jason licked his lips and smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments! It's really encouraging to know everyone is having as much fun with this AU as I am!


	4. Day Four: First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It hit Jason, quite suddenly, that neither of them had much experience in this area. Dick talked a big game, and he was seventeen when they first met, but life on the road didn’t actually grant them many opportunities for flings. It was possible Dick had _some_ familiarity with dating, but it couldn’t have been _a lot_ more than Jason. In his class-practice-showtime spiel, he hadn’t once mentioned making out with Bozo the Clown behind the big top.

To be fair to himself, Michael Latini had not been given much instruction. Zucco had a habit of giving orders and then skipping out on what those orders _implied._ To be fair to Zucco, Michael knew this going into the job and could only hold himself accountable for any consequential bumps. One of those bumps was an unexpected upper-cut to the chin that sent him reeling.

It wasn’t that the chick had seemed particularly _easy._ She was just within grabbing distance. If he was certain someone else in a shirt conveniently emblazoned with _Haly’s_ would march by his car, then he would’ve passed her over for a skinnier woman. She had muscular arms and legs built for running. But he was parked too close to circus security for comfort and he had nothing but quick thinking to depend on. So when she was right next to the backseat of his van, he slid the door open and grabbed a handful of her long black ringlets. His palm flew over her mouth mid-cry and she kicked his shin. They stumbled into the van together. From there, it was a matter of closing and locking the doors before she did excessive damage to his person. Thank god for fancy car keys with automatic buttons.

The wrestling match was brutal. He could not emphasize enough how much he regretted this job already. To be fair to himself again, refusing Tony Zucco was just something people didn’t do. It was dangerous. He straddled her and tried to roll her onto her stomach. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he bargained.

“I am!” 

“Okay, fine,” he grunted. He did his best to restrain her fists long enough to grab his pepper spray from his pocket. She easily escaped his grip and punched his jaw in the same second he sprayed her eyes. She screamed; he yelped. Was this van soundproof? Probably not. He hurriedly got to work zip-tying her wrists behind her back and her ankles together. Her face was red and wet. He retrieved the roll duct tape from the center console and slapped a strip over her mouth. “Alright,” he said. God, his jaw _ached._ He crawled over to the driver’s seat and started the engine. “To the hotel!” he cheered. It wouldn’t be good to let her think he was fazed. “Hey, you like Hozier?” he asked, digging through some CDs tossed in the passenger’s with an open phone book.

It was a short drive to the parking garage. He didn’t like wasting money on gas. He shouldn't have to, either, so long as Haly did the smart thing and just paid up. A police investigation would just force him to cancel shows. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made for Zucco to target Haly’s Circus. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place. “Don’t worry, lady,” he said, “I plan to make this an accelerated process so no one loses money. Calling the circus as we speak. You’re for ransom, so you ain’t gonna die.”

A woman’s voice answered the phone. _“Haly’s Circus! What can I help you with?”_

“Are you Haly?” asked Michael.

_“Nope, this is Rochelle. I can help you with any questions — ”_

“Yeah, I need to speak to Haly. I kidnapped one of his workers. Think she’s a performer. That makes her extra special, right?” He looked at the woman in the back. “You’re a performer, right? Nod yes.”

She did nothing.

Michael returned his attention to the call. “Well, I’m pretty sure. She looks circus-y.”

Rochelle’s answer came slow and unsure. _“You...kidnapped a member of Haly’s Circus?”_

“Sure did, ma’am.”

_“Who? Who did you kidnap?”_

Michael had honestly no clue whom he kidnapped. “I’m not sure that should be a priority.”

_“This is a prank call.”_

“No, it’s not. Either way, you should get your boss, yeah?”

There was a moment of silent hesitation and then, _“Please hold.”_

_“This is Haly speaking. Explain.”_

“Cool. I’m not sure who I kidnapped. But I definitely have her, so there is that. If you give me your cell, I can take a picture of her as proof and send it.”

_“Or you could have her talk to me.”_

Michael made a hissing noise. “Ooh, no-can-do. I’m afraid she’ll start screaming or, like, give you information I didn’t even know she had. I’m in a bind, it sucks.”

_“Then how do I know she’s even alive?”_

Fuck. Michael hadn’t thought of that. Dammit, okay. He sighed theatrically for Haly’s benefit. “Fine, I’ll rip the tape off her mouth. But if she starts screaming, I’m asking for more money.” Michael balanced the phone on his shoulder and wriggled between the two front seats. With one hand, he peeled the tape half-way. “It’s Haly,” he told her, holding the phone to her mouth.

“It’s Mary Grayson!” she informed. “I swear I’m alive!”

 _“This — this could be a recording,”_ said Haly doubtfully.

Michael thought of an idea. “Tell him something only you know. That wouldn't be on a recording.”

Mary's brow wrinkled, thinking. Then she rushed out, “Two Christmases ago I accidentally punched you in the face and Jason set the tree on fire! You mailed us a thank-you card the next week, but inside you wrote, ‘Never invite me again.’ Dick personally called you, crying.”

_“Oh, Lord.”_

Haly’s words reverberated with Michael. “Damn,” he muttered. Mary glared at him. He retracted the phone and smoothed the tape back on. “Straight from the horse’s mouth,” he concluded to Haly.

_“What do you want?”_

“Thirty-thousand dollars in cash delivered to 150 Maiden Lane by midnight tomorrow. No cops, no weapons. I _will_ count the money. You’ll get Ms. Grayson after everything checks out and I’m safe in my car. Capiche?”

 _“I want you to call back_ every _hour and let Mary talk.”_

“Fine by me, daddy-o,” Michael agreed, elongating his vowels. He clicked _end._

 

* * *

 

 

The air conditioning inside the aquarium’s central building was a life-saver. They had been melting in line for fifteen minutes, Jason’s new shirt collecting gross sweat stains by the sleeves. Dick had immediately bought a paper fan with baby seals on it and taken to fanning himself rigorously. As they had walked, Dick would shoot him surreptitious glares as if _Jason_ had personally caused the heat. Jason had gestured to the building as soon as he saw it and they made a break for it.

It was dim-lit and tanks plastered the walls. There were sea turtles, reptiles, crabs, and Giant Fucking Fish with dead eyes that Jason would point at and say “me.” When they reached the clownfish, he elbowed Dick and said, “you.” Dick made a pained noise at the base of his throat and whimpered, _“Marlin.”_

They went on like that, finding increasingly ugly fish to call each other. In the coral reef section, colored LEDs cast blues, pinks, and greens until the angles of Dick’s face looked like fragments of abstract art. The jellyfish section was a compact room overflowing with fellow tourists pressing Dick’s back against Jason’s chest. His hair tickled Jason’s face and smelled like cinnamon and coconut. There was no hope of disentanglement, so they let the crowd steadily push them out to the next attraction.

The next attraction was an octopus. A tour guide stood beside the tank in a pair of khakis and a polo. Her blonde hair was hiked into a tight ponytail. “Usually, Frederick here prefers to hide in his cave. But today, he seems to be blessing us with his happy face!” Frederick’s face was not at all visible, as he was greeting them spread-eagle. His many tentacles were suctioned to the glass and the cups lining his tendrils seemed to breathe in and out.

Jason and Dick stuck around until most of the crowd had dispersed. Dick shoved his hands in his jean pockets and inspected Frederick the Octopus. “Talk about a panty shot, huh?” he quipped.

Jason grinned. “Don’t objectify him,” he scolded.

Dick smiled roguishly. “Come on. I bet its tentacles are _dripping wet.”_

“Sir,” interrupted the tour guide, voice strained, “please do not mock the octopus.”

Dick glanced at the tour guide in surprise. “Oh. Sorry,” he apologized, eyes wide.

Jason leaned toward Dick’s ear. “Frederick has _feelings,”_ he said and clutched his heart.

Dick rolled his eyes and grabbed Jason by the wrist, towing him away from the tour guide. “It’s feeling _something,”_ he conceded.

“Dirty. You’re dirty,” Jason stated.

“That was an obscene octopus,” replied Dick archly. Clearly his embarrassment only lasted so long. “Hey, look.” Dick motioned to a sign ahead. “There’s a petting pool outside in five minutes.”

“For what?”

“Hm.” Dick narrowed his eyes. “The picture looks like a sting ray?”

“Dude, let’s pet a stingray.” They exited the building by a backdoor that led them directly to the petting area. A small table holding water was set up. A small group had already gathered, mostly composed of small children and their respective guardians. Jason and Dick approached. Stingrays darted back and forth.

Dick placed his fingers lightly on the edge. “Can we pet them now?” he asked the staff member across from them.

The staffman smiled politely, hands clasped behind them. “No, not yet. Two more minutes.”

Dick hummed. “You know,” he began, “I’ve never been to an aquarium.”

“No shit?” That was surprising. Dick had been on the road his entire life. He was a tourist wherever he went. Jason assumed aquariums were standard tourist traps. Even he had been to the Gotham Aquarium two or three times when his parents were around.

“Well, I didn’t have much free time before I graduated school. It was always class-practice-showtime. The stars had to align just _so_ for me to get off the train.” Dick started to list. “It had to be a weekend, first of all. I had to have finished homework and practice early. There couldn’t be a show going on at all, or else I’d be stuck getting ready by the afternoon. And sometimes our shows _are_ during the afternoon, and my parents would be too tired to take me out in the town.

“Mostly we’d just stop at a diner for lunch or visit an art museum.” Dick arched his eyebrow and tilted his chin pretentiously high. “I’m highly cultured as a result.”

Jason snorted. “So cultured.”

“I had the finest upbringing a circus could offer,” Dick insisted.

“Of course.” Jason nodded. “Finest upbringing. Sliders that give you diarrhea and chairs made of recycled soda cans that you can’t sit on.”

“It _sounds_ like you’re questioning my worldliness. I simply _must_ be hearing wrong.”

Jason tugged on Dick’s earlobe, then poked behind the shell. “Everything checks out,” he determined. “Your hearing is spot-on.”

Dick sent Jason an unimpressed look. “Says the boy who actually _did_ run away to the circus.” He shrugged in the most ironically calculated move ever. “Has to be better than whatever education your _cardboard box_ afforded you.”

Jason sucked in a breath, playing hurt. “Oh, _ouch._ Went _straight_ for the poverty card. You feel proud of yourself?”

He was only joking, but Dick frowned. “No,” he mumbled, eyes downcast.

Jason reached out a placating hand. “Wait, no, I was kidding. I don’t really care, Dick. Seriously, we’re cool.”

 _“I’m_ not, though. That was a low blow. I’m not cool _at all.”_

The staff member began his speech and they both turned to him. “Alrighty, folks! Good to see you all today, despite the heat. I know we’re hot, but we’ve got this _nice_ awning above to shade not our only heads, but the skates as well.”

Jason inched closer to Dick and whispered, “I know how you can make it up to me.”

Dick flickered his eyes towards him. “How?”

Jason licked his bottom lip. He hoped Dick would laugh about this. “We could, uh, find a secluded area. Cool off our own way.” Jason attempted to smirk even though he felt like jumping into a shark tank.

Dick’s eyebrows pinched. “Excuse me?”

Jason immediately took it back. _“It was a joke!”_

“Skates are often confused with stingrays,” the worker went on. “One of the key differences between the two is that skates can’t sting.”

Dick was facing Jason full-on now, expression completely taken aback. “Wow,” he said.

“I’m so sorry, I was trying to make you laugh. But. You’re not laughing, so let’s pet the skates.” Jason smiled uncomfortably and pointed at the pool.

“This argument really _came_ to a _head,”_ Dick mused.

Jason paused at the odd emphasis in Dick’s wording. “Wait, are you…?” Jason let his question trail off.

Dick crossed his arms and shook his head. “You _blew_ it, Jay.”

Jason could not believe this man. “Are you fucking with me right now,” he said as quietly and angrily as possible. “I thought you were actually _upset.”_

“I absolutely am _not_ fucking with you right now. There are children.” Dick then smiled beatifically and patted his bicep. “I’m sure we can _beat_ this, though; think of how to diffuse the tension. _Let’s put our heads together.”_

Jason refused to acknowledge Dick anymore. He turned to the skates. “If you say one more pun for the remainder of this date, I’m drowning you with the seals.”

Dick laughed into his palm. Jason watched him smile and titter from the corner of his eye. If they weren’t in public, he’d snake an arm around his waist and pull him near.

They had agreed to be back at the train before sundown so they could fit some practice in before dinner. Jason paid for ice cream and they grabbed a city bus that dropped them off a short walk from Haly’s Circus. Their ice creams were melting onto their hands now and it became a race to finish them before their hands were drenched.

Jason had finished his soon enough, but Dick was preoccupied with talking. Something about the way Dick chattered on about penguins made Jason’s heart squeeze, so he pushed Dick’s nose into his soupy cone. Strawberry ice cream coated the tip of his nose. After trying to stretch his tongue entirely, and failing to get it all off, Dick threw the cone into a trash can and patted his back pockets for napkins. Before he could find anything, Jason dived in and licked it clean. For a second, possibly two, Dick just blinked rapidly.

It hit Jason, quite suddenly, that neither of them had much experience in this area. Dick talked a big game, and he was seventeen when they first met, but life on the road didn’t actually grant them many opportunities for flings. It was possible Dick had _some_ familiarity with dating, but it couldn’t have been _a lot_ more than Jason. In his class-practice-showtime spiel, he hadn’t once mentioned making out with Bozo the Clown behind the big top.

Dick rested his hands on Jason’s shoulders and pulled him in. It was just a peck at first, and Dick lingered there before Jason pressed their lips together. He tasted of the concrete he had slammed Jason into the first time they met, of the fire Jason danced with the night he knew he loved him, and strawberries. Jason deepened the kiss. When Dick’s hand moved to the nape of his neck and kept him there, Jason wondered how they had waited this long. Jason’s fingers were smoothing circles onto Dick’s lower back when a ringtone went off. Dick broke away, smile apologetic, and answered his phone.

Jason could make out the grainy voice on the other end. _“Where are you?”_

Dick grimaced. “Right outside Haly’s. Why?”

_“You need to come quick. It’s your mom.”_

Jason perked up at that and shot Dick an inquisitive stare. “Why? What’s wrong?” Dick asked, worry tainting his voice.

 _“I’ll explain when you get here. It’s not the sort of thing you say over the phone. I’ll see you soon.”_ The line went dead and Dick lowered his phone, confusion written on his face.

“That was Haly,” Dick informed. “He says — ”

“Yeah, I heard him.” Jason held out his hand and jerked his head toward the parking lot. The big top was completely set up and the sun was still a good height in the sky. “Let’s go,” he said. Dick took his hand and they started for the train at a brisk pace.

They arrived at the circus in no time, keeping their hands together even as they dodged the foot traffic of construction workers. There was an unusual amount of staff in dark blue uniforms out at once. “What’s with all the security today?” Dick asked, noticing too.

“Nothing good,” Jason answered. This didn’t sit right with him. Haly’s never needed this much security out at any time, especially away from the gate entrance.

“You don’t think it’s a coincidence,” Dick stated.

They let go of each other’s hands as their climbed the steps onto the train. “We’d be pretty lucky if it was.”

Dick didn’t respond, but Jason picked up on how he walked slightly faster than normal. Dick didn’t wait to knock on the door before he flung it open and entered Haly’s office, Jason is tow.

Haly held his face in his hands, posture slagging over the desk. “Boys,” he acknowledged. “Shut the door, please.” Dick marched up to Haly while Jason closed the door behind them.

“What’s going on?” Dick demanded.

Haly sighed and straightened his back. “This morning, after you two took off, I got a call from an unlisted number. Don’t know him, but he’s been calling every hour with your mother. He wants thirty-thousand in cash tomorrow at midnight for her return. I’ve tried negotiating, getting the number down. I’m afraid to get the police involved.”

Haly spread his palms helplessly. “I don’t know what to do. Your father drove off in a storm when I told him. Don’t know where he is still.” When Haly gazed at Dick, there were tears in his eyes. Jason could distinguish marks on his cheeks where older tears had dried. “I was hoping you’d be of more sound mind,” Haly admitted.

Dick’s fists crashed down on the desk, making Haly jump slightly. “You should’ve called me sooner,” he said

“What could you do?” Haly asked.

“I don’t know. What _can_ I do? You called me now, so obviously there’s _something,”_   Dick argued. Jason thought of the sick fuck that would take Mary Grayson. She was the kindest woman he knew. She had welcomed him into her family for the holidays, had taken care of his every need without legal documents or good reason. And some piece of filth thought her life was nothing more than coin. His blood boiled and his ears felt red hot.

“I guess I needed someone to be with me when next time he calls,” Haly said weakly. Dick’s narrowed eyes were trained on him, unrelenting. Jason was about to touch his shoulder, to attempt to comfort him even though he was battling the same rage, when Dick pushed back from the desk.

“Batman,” he said like a whip. Dick whirled his attention over to Jason. “When I was nine years old, a mobster named Anthony Zucco tried to kill my parents after Haly refused to pay protection money. Batman was there and he saw the hints. He stopped Zucco before he could cut the trapeze. He’s helped us once, he can help us again. We’ve got a day and a half to get to Gotham and bring him here.”

“Dick, I know you’re worried,” said Haly. “But that’s insane.”

“Don’t worry,” snapped Dick. “I’ll pay for my plane ticket. I’m getting the first flight out. Batman has private jets, right?”

Jason nodded. “Sure.”

“The return trip should be speedy, then.” Dick headed for the door. “Don’t pay him a dime, Haly!” He was out in a huff.

Jason stared after him, then glanced at Haly and waved before turning on his heel. “Dick, wait up!” he called down the hall. “I’ve got money for coach!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I feel bad about this since I'm supposed to be putting out a chapter a day. But I'm honestly not used to writing 1-3k every day and I'm burning out. I've fallen behind on my reading list, haven't been helping around the house, and ngl there's this rp that I really want to talk about with a friend but CAN'T because I'm a slow writer and it takes me about 5 or 6 hours to finish 3k words without breaks. Slow thinker, I guess?
> 
> Anyyyyway. What I'm saying is: I probably won't have the next chapter out till Saturday or Sunday. Sunday, possibly, because I'm going to a concert on Friday and my friend will be crashing at my place after. Who knows how late I'll end up sleeping in on Saturday? 
> 
> The good news, though: this morning I sat down and I finished outlining the rest of the plot, so I know exactly how things will play out. As much as I love reading smut, I'm not too confident in my skills to write it - so for the "first time" prompt, I'll probably end up uploading a couple crack scenes that got out of hand during the "blab about my story to everyone on skype" process. I don't want to scare anyone off, but there may be tentacles involved. Dick may be an octopus. You didn't hear it from me.
> 
> tl;dr - I love you guys and I love this fic, but I won't be posting chapter five until Saturday or Sunday. Also, twp (tentacles without porn).


	5. Day Five: First Heart-to-Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Dick,” said Batman, gazing down at where the two of them were clinging to the grapple for dear life. “I think I may know who’s behind this. It’s just a hunch, but — ”_  
>  _Dick cut him off. “Anthony Zucco.”_  
>  _Batman simply nodded._  
>  _“Yeah,” said Dick, “I have the same feeling.”_  
>     
> Jason and Dick leave the circus to save it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, this is late! But - it's also much longer than any of the previous chapters at a good 7k words.
> 
> Thanks to everyone still reading this! I think I may actually be attempting smut later? But it will be out of order. The break-up chapter will come before the first time chapter. Ohoho, boy. Ohoho.
> 
> Also, I would like to give a special shout-out to my beta, HandsomeJackIsBack. They beta'd all these chapters and I wasn't going to thank them until the last, but 7k words is def longer than ideal. I feel like I pulled a foot-in-the-door technique on them by accident haha. So they deserve immediate acknowledgement for proofreading a fanfic for a fandom they're not even in. Check them out on [ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/HandsomeJackIsBack/pseuds/HandsomeJackIsBack)/[tumblr](http://handsomejackisback.tumblr.com) if you love Borderlands and Rhack!

1:00 AM

Dick paced up and down the sidewalk. “Doesn’t he have a bat-signal?” he said sharply. They both were wearing the same clothes they had for their date, but now they were hours from home. The sun had officially set and Jason sensed the rustle of the oncoming night crowd, an alarm built in the nerves of his body that had since been vestigial.

Jason crossed his arms and planted his feet, hoping to possibly calm Dick down through body language. “He does, yeah. At the police department. But do you really want _cops_ involved?”

Dick halted and spread his arms in invitation. “Do you have another way to contact Batman? Because if you do, by all means.” He flourished his hand.

Jason gazed up at the moon. Same rock in space everywhere, but something possessed it in Gotham. He had thought it was a trick of a provincial childhood when the sky felt foreign on his first night outside Gotham. The moon was inarguably the same moon it was in Central City as it was in Metropolis as it was in Vegas. Yet now that he was back in Gotham after years, he could confirm that the moon didn’t hang quite right in his home city.

More than that, the moon meant _more_ in Gotham. It meant someone was always watching. Jason had his answer. “It’s called crime, Dickie,” he informed. “We want Batman, we have to be wanted.”

Dick looked at him peculiarly. “So, that’s it? We’re going to commit a crime and hope we don’t get arrested by the police first?”

Jason shrugged. “We’re also going to hope it’s a quiet night. It’d suck to get upstaged by the _real_ crazies.” At Dick’s expression, Jason continued. “Gotham’s got our own clowns and dwarfs. Except these ones will kill ya’.” 

Dick had pursed his lips and appeared enthralled with the ground. “Go on and wrestle with the idea,” inserted Jason. He mumbled partly to himself, “Just hurry up while the night’s still young and the Bat doesn’t have a queue.”

Dick glanced up. “What do you suggest we do to get in trouble? Mug someone? Rob a bank?”

“Maybe to the first one, _definitely no_ to the second.”

“God, I wish I had a ski mask on me,” Dick muttered, tapping his chin. “That would make things so much easier.” Before they could come up with anything, a shriek erupted nearby. Then the ground began to rumble and there was an entire mob running their way, screaming collectively. Following them was a giant walking robot with two mammoth guns for arms. One gun fired and all of East Street was covered in ice. “What. The. Fuck,” said Dick, enunciating each word as he stared up at Mr. Freeze’s mecha.

Jason grinned wildly. _That_ was a new suit. He would’ve heard about it on the news if it wasn’t. “Gotham!” he cheered, neck craned at the little bubble Mr. Freeze was piloting from. “Daddy’s home!” Dick grabbed his wrist and dragged him in the opposite direction of the supervillain.

“Come on! Up that building!” Dick directed. He leaped onto the nearest window ledge and scaled the bricks.

“You think his guns can’t aim high?” Jason asked. He twisted his head to evaluate the mobility of the mecha’s arms as he followed Dick up the wall.

“Not sure,” said Dick truthfully. “Either way, it eliminates our chances of getting stepped on.” They reached an awning mid-way. There were no more steps they could reach. Dick hummed, thinking. Then he backed up to the edge of the awning and launched himself forward, running up until he was able to throw himself onto the roof. His landing was less graceful than his Flying Grayson routine.

“Thank god I learned parkour for my fire poi,” said Jason. He copied Dick’s moves. It was harder than he thought it would be. He landed on his stomach and it hurt. Dick offered his hand and pulled him to his feet.

“So,” said Dick. He smiled dryly. “Some city.”

Jason surveyed the damage below. The entire road now was covered in ice, civilians frozen in place. It reminded him of Pompeii. “I think we’ll have our wedding here.” Jason made a sweeping motion toward the street. “Right on this ice. The venue even comes with guests!”

“Great,” droned Dick. “We can be the first gay couple to be married by an _icicle.”_

“Hate breeds hate, babe.” Jason clapped a hand on Dick’s shoulder and kissed his cheek. “Be better than your fellow ice cube.” Then he walked across the roof to where Mr. Freeze was headed. “Vamos. Where there’s a villain, there’s a hero.”

Dick followed. “Don’t you think Batman will be a little preoccupied with Mr. Freeze? Ugh, coming here was a _mistake.”_ Dick smacked his palm to his forehead.

That was when a dark figure landed on the rooftop across from them. “Is that — ?”

Batman threw a wire that hooked onto the mecha’s head, cracking the glass in Mr. Freeze's bubble. A loud creaking noise sounded as the gun-arms started a slow process of turning upward. Batman jumped into the air, holding onto his grapple as he was carried atop the mecha. By the time the guns were trained on Batman, he neatly skirted the bubble and crawled onto the back of the suit to evade blasts.

Dick and Jason were running now, trying to get as close to the debacle as possible. The mecha was right in front of them. They could hear Batman growl, “Give up the game, Freeze. I’m in your blindside and I’m not letting you go.”

Without warning, Dick rewound his steps and took a running leap over the roof. Jason had barely finished yelling, _“What are you doing?”_ when Dick was on Mr. Freeze’s bubble. He landed on all fours, slipping slightly over the glass curvature. He clung tight.

“What the hell?” Jason heard Batman say.

The barrel of one of the guns poised rotated. There were clicking noises as the weapon adjusted. “Dick, get low!” Jason warned. Dick looked over his shoulder at the gun in the same instant Batman grabbed hold of his shirt and yanked him to the back. A thin beam of ice, narrower than the blasts that had frozen the roads, shot over their heads.

Dick scrambled for purchase on the suit. He gripped the grapple in one hand and rested the other on the modest indent between the mecha’s back and helmet. “I need to talk to you!” Dick exclaimed.

“Is right now _really_ the best time?” Batman griped.

“It’s the _only_ time.”

Batman lifted himself up to the helmet with the grapple. “Find someone else!” he refused. He flung a boomerang at the smaller gun. When the beam attempted to fire, the recoil blasted itself. The gun plummeted to the icy ground and cracked the cement. A civilian tripped over a crack, but immediately got up and escaped.

“Neat,” Dick complimented. “Hey! Do you call those thingies batarangs?”

Batman glanced at Dick who peered over the helmet. “Excuse me?”

“Careful!” Jason shouted. Batman whipped around in time to dodge another thin beam from the second gun.

“You might not remember me, although you probably do,” Dick introduced himself. “I’m Dick Grayson — of The Flying Graysons? You saved my parents.”

“I recall,” confirmed Batman, dodging another attack.

Dick smiled. “Cool. Well, see, my parents have _done it again,_ haha,” he joked and hiked himself up onto the helmet. “What I mean is, my mother just got kidnapped for ransom and my father is M.I.A. The ransom, of course, is what I need help with.” Dick predicted the beam this time and shifted away from the line of fire. “My dad is probably fine.”

“There’s police for a reason, kid,” Batman grunted.

“We don’t have time to open an investigation! We’re only in North Dakota for two days! You saved my parents before! This is _fate!”_ Dick insisted. The mecha suddenly started to shake rapidly. Batman jumped and hung onto the arm-gun as Dick yelped and slid down the bubble.

Fear struck Jason like a lightning bolt, abrupt and fierce. Unthinking, Jason hurdled over the roof and caught the grapple miraculously. When Dick’s traction gave, Jason seized a fistful of Dick’s shirt. There was a tearing sound, but Dick latched onto the grapple with Jason before his shirt could rip from his weight. Together they clung to the grapple, shutting their eyes as the suit continued trying to throw them off.

Meanwhile, Batman steadily scaled the slower-moving gun. “This is not fate,” he denied. “This is you and your friend purposefully abandoning your family to seek me out when you _should_ be staying put and providing use to those who need you _there.”_

Jason gritted his teeth. “If we go back now with nothing, Mary Grayson will either die or Haly’s will be broke. We’re in enough debt as it is and this ransom money could be the final blow.” Jason cautiously began a trek up the grapple. “Maybe that means nothing to _you,_ but that circus is everything to us! Without it, we don’t have a place to live or a job to feed us,” he finished. He was high enough on the suit now to stare Batman down, however intimidating he could manage while on the verge of dying from a colossal vibrator.

Batman, perched on the barrel, stuck another boomerang in the gun. “The minute you fire, the recoil will destroy this blaster. It’s over, Freeze,” he announced. “You’ve got no weapons. And those two look like they can hang on all night.”

“Yup! Sure can!” Dick vouched, though he looked about ready to puke from the convulsions.

A booming voice came from the mecha. Inside the bubble, Mr. Freeze was speaking into a microphone. “Guns or no guns, I can still do damage!” The mecha’s leg kicked a building. It collapsed in on itself and people cried as debris spat out.

“I didn’t want to do this,” said Batman. He sounded strangely sincere. “Hey, kid,” he addressed Jason. “You might want to duck.” Without waiting, Batman tossed something that stuck to the helmet. Jason lowered his position on the grapple as the device beeped a few times. Predictably, the shell detonated.

“Holy crap!” said Dick at the explosion, dangling below. Fragments from the helmet showered down. One edge sliced Dick’s cheek. “Holy _glass shards._ What is going _on_ up there?”

“Justice,” Jason deadpanned. At least the vibrating had stopped.

“Fortunately for you,” the Batman said to Mr. Freeze, who had released the controls in his pain, “an ambulance is on its way. I’ve no doubt they’re accustomed to your...antics. You’ll be breathing easy in no time. _Now_ it’s over,” he concluded. His lips quirked upward, smug.

“That’s right, Bats,” Jason agreed. “It’s over. So you can come with us and figure out what low-life dipshit thought he could take Mary Grayson.”

Expressions were difficult to gauge through the mask, but Jason would daresay Batman had a brutal glare. Jason didn’t want a hero who couldn’t deliver a damn good glare, at least. He knew _he_ was giving out a pretty decent death-stare. “I’m not abandoning _my_ people so easily,” said the Batman. “I’m investigating first.”

“Great. We can investigate at Haly’s Circus.” Jason snapped his fingers and pointed, theoretically, toward North Dakota.

“No. I’m investigating Gotham first.” Batman hopped down from the gun and climbed around the open bubble, clearly not concerned over Freeze. In all fairness, he _was_ writhing in torment. That couldn’t be conducive to throwing down with the Dark Knight. “Dick,” said Batman, gazing down at where the two of them were clinging to the grapple for dear life. “I think I may know who’s behind this. It’s just a hunch, but — ”

Dick cut him off. “Anthony Zucco.”

Batman simply nodded.

“Yeah,” said Dick, “I have the same feeling.”

Sirens wailed towards them. Batman motioned for them to climb up. As soon as they reached the top of the mecha, Batman retracted his grapple and hooked it to the rooftop. They threw the grapple back and forth until each of them had regrouped. They scaled the brick walls down.

“Question: do you not keep in touch with local law enforcement?” Dick brought up. He and Jason were trailing after the Bat as his cape billowed behind him. “I can’t help but notice we’re skulking.”

“We have a complicated relationship. I speak with Commissioner Gordon when necessary.”

Dick leaned toward Jason and whispered, “Is he dating Commissioner Gordon or the entire police department?”

“If you think gossiping about the man barely three steps in front of you will convince him to save your missing mother, then you have a unique approach to ingratiating yourself, Grayson,” Batman reprimanded.

What made this guy think he could mouth off like that? Aggravation pricked at Jason’s nape. Dick opened his mouth to respond, but Jason beat him to the punch. “I’m sorry, do you save people because it’s the right thing to do, or because someone _asked nicely?”_

Batman led them around an alley. He glanced at Jason. “What’s your name, kid?”

“What do you need it for?” Jason fired back.

Dick rolled his eyes. “It’s Jason Todd.”

“Pretty fancy handle for a street kid,” Batman remarked. “You’ve got a lingering Gotham accent. Impressive aerial skills, so I know you’re circus talent too. And no two people synchronize that well in crises unless they’ve been together for years. You must’ve been travelling with Haly’s for a while.”

Eventually, the three of them came upon a sleek black car with doors that unlocked when they were a foot from it. Batman opened the driver’s side and smirked at Jason. “An accent that withstanding could only be indigenous to Park Row.”

Jason couldn’t wait to tell everyone how much of an arrogant jackass the Batman was. He yanked the backdoor as roughly as possible and sent him a withering look. “So you can identify an accent from a city you’ve lived in your whole batty life. What else can ya’ do?” he asked, pointedly embracing the inflection he had grown up with. “Tell me when it’s dark outside?” He slammed his door closed and settled into the suede seat, triumphant.

Jason had expected Dick to climb into the backseat with him. Instead, the passenger door swung open and Dick slid in. Batman appeared even more taken aback by him sitting up front. Dick looked around the interior. He whistled low. _“The batcar,”_ he whispered, then frowned and gently shook his head. “No, that doesn’t sound quite right. Batvehicle?” He patted the door. “I’ll work on it.”

“Work on it _in your head,_ please,” requested Batman.

“Sure, sure,” said Dick, good-natured. “Where are we headed?”

 _“You_ are headed for the police station. _I_ am going to launch my investigation.” Batman started the engine and pressed on the gas. The wheels practically glided across the gravel. Their speed increased and the car cut through the air like melted butter. What a beautiful car. Jason could cry.

“No way!” Dick objected. “This is _my_ family.”

“It’s _my_ case,” countered Batman. “And I work alone.”

Dick obstinately shook his head. “I don’t believe that,” he said. “That frozen robot nonsense? You acted totally normal about it!”

“I see this every night.”

“Exactly! You should be dead by now if you work alone!” Dick’s eyebrows were arched to his hairline in bewilderment. He was as adorable as he was relentless, and Jason couldn’t help smiling. Dick’s ability to step on inflated egos was not only admirable, but ambiguously intentioned.

Batman adjusted his grip on the wheel. “If it appalls you that much, I _do_ have people within my circle who assist me on occasion. But partners are a hazard.”

Jason shrugged. “Then we’re not partners. We’re people who assist you.”

“I still think you need a partner,” Dick mumbled.

The dashboard rang and Jason undid his buckle and hopped to the middle seat for a better look. O R A C L E ran across a center screen. “You gonna’ answer that?” he asked, pointing.

Batman drew out a breath. Apparently debating it, he waited one more ring before jabbing a button. “You’re on speaker — ”

 _“I know. I track your car,”_ a woman said in a sly voice.

“ — and there’s two civilians with me,” Batman finished.

A pause, and then, _“Oh. May I ask why?”_

“Do you have time to?” Batman retorted. “You didn’t call me just to chat, did you?”

 _“Generally I don’t translate ‘civilians with me’ to ‘yes, go forth with the incredibly compromising info.’ Which brings me back to my unanswered question.”_ Whoever Oracle was, she spoke with cool assurance and dry wit. There seemed, to Jason, a perennial smirk laced into each of her words.

Batman sighed heavily. “They threw themselves onto Mr. Freeze’s newest toy while I was mid-battle to ask for help. Richard Grayson and Jason Todd, Haly’s Circus. Mary Grayson is being held for ransom.”

What sounded like taps on a keyboard filtered through the speakers. “ _The Flying Graysons encountered a near tragedy before, which I assume is how Richard established such a lofty connection.”_ Oracle said the last two words wryly. _“Jason Todd is — a missing person and presumed dead at 15. Huh. Nice to finally hear from you, Mr. Todd.”_

Jason’s blood ran cold. He had no problems returning to Gotham, yet there was an innate horror at the reminder that he shouldn’t have had this life. He didn’t leave Gotham, he _escaped_ it. Had Haly rejected him, had anyone at any point breathed his name to the public, Jason Todd would’ve been dragged to a foster family kicking and screaming.

“Dead man walking, at your service,” Jason replied. Dick must have detected the strain in his voice, because he looked at him over his shoulder and mouthed, _“You okay?”_ Jason nodded, because it should be okay. He was a legal adult now, dead or not. His family couldn’t be torn away from him anymore. His presence in Gotham was _proof_ of that.

Except — it didn’t feel good knowing there was a world where Dick Grayson remained a stolen moment. The man whose hand he held for hours on a plane — as if Jason’s entire life might exist between their interlocked fingers — could’ve been nothing more than a devilish smile on a flier that never left the confines of his circus-colored fantasies.

“I will speak to you privately once I drop Dick and Jason off with the GCP,” Batman told Oracle before ending the call.

Dick whirled around, breaking his attention from Jason to stare heatedly at Batman. “You can’t dump us off while you _maybe_ save my mom.”

“There’s no ‘maybe.’ I will,” Batman promised.

And that was it. Batman was just another authority that didn’t give a damn if Jason lost everything. Jason rested his palms on the front seats and inserted himself between them. His face hovered near Batman’s. “You taking control doesn’t make things easier for us,” he informed, wrestling down his frustration and aiming for calm.

“I know,” stated Batman. His eyes were fixed on the road. “It makes things easier for me.”

Jason recognized the police station coming up on their right. They were running out of time to persuade him. Jason’s fists balled. “Jesus, this is _our_ family. This is about _us.”_ The car rolled into the parking lot. Crap. “We don’t give a shit if it’s easier for _you,”_ Jason snapped.

Batman hit the break abruptly, jolting Jason roughly so his arms fell off the front seats. “What a coincidence,” noted Batman. “Neither do I.”

Dick sighed and closed his eyes, already unclicking his belt.

“I’m not getting out,” Jason said petulantly.

“You are if you want the police to mind their own business. It’s a short walk to the car,” threatened Batman.

Jason could try dragging it out further. “It’s not illegal to be a missing person.”

Batman nodded in agreement. “No. But the discovery is a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Jason clucked his tongue. Dick, who had been eying them, finally opened his door in defeat. “Let’s go, Jay,” he said and stepped outside.

Authority had a way of screwing him over. Jason got out of the car, going out of his way to make each movement agonizingly slow and unnecessarily loud. Batman raced out of the lot in the same second Jason slammed the door. He stood limply, watching as the car was swallowed by night, and was sure he hadn’t felt this powerless since his parents died.

Dick appeared beside him and rested his head on Jason’s shoulder. Their hands found each other and squeezed. Jason looked down at their knuckles turning white. He chuckled. “We grip each other any harder and we’ll have enough force to jumpstart a corpse’s heart,” he joked.

“I don’t know how much that goes for,” Dick admitted. He shook their clasped hands a little. “You’re pretty lively for a dead guy already.”

It would figure Oracle’s words would stick out to Dick, too. Jason wished she had never said them. She probably thought she was being funny, like Jason was some criminal who faked his death and deserved to feel hunted. Dick spoke again. “It never occurred to me that there’d still be a Jason Todd in Gotham.” Their eyes met and Dick removed his head from Jason’s shoulder.

Dick tugged their hands and they began walking away from the station. “When we took you in, I more-or-less assumed we were closing that chapter of your life. Hell, we were closing an entire book and taking it off the shelves, as far as I thought about the implications of us — you know. _Kidnapping_ you, essentially.” Dick laughed, nervous and breathy.

“It _was_ pretty whirlwind,” said Jason. Dick obviously hadn’t spared any thought for who Jason was before they met. Jason _liked_ it that way. He was content with Dick’s desire to remake him. It was safer than acknowledging that fifteen years of his life were rotting away in Gotham. It was safer to push back the memories of his mom and dad in their cramped Crime Alley apartment. So that was what he did: he smothered his old life under his cheap pillow on the train before it could breathe the same air as Dick.

“But you had a life, right?” And the way Dick phrased that, like it was a question, confirmed Jason had achieved that perfect compartmentalization.

“I did,” said Jason, throat tight. A street lamp flickered as they passed.

Dick nodded. He was good at taking things in stride. Jason needed that in him. “It was stupid of me to think making a life for you at Haly’s would erase your life in Gotham.”

“Didn’t it?” Jason said wryly.

 _“No._ People don’t disappear when they die, Jason. Your face must’ve been on the news. Or at least cork boards in grocery stores. Haly should’ve done things proper when he took you in. And I should’ve _talked_ to you about what happened.” Dick kept Jason’s hand, but he stopped walking and faced him. “We didn’t bring up your parents even _once_ after we met. That’s messed up.”

“Dick, seriously,” said Jason. Moths fluttered about the nearest streetlamp that hummed in the background. “I didn’t want to talk about it. That’s not on you.”

“But it is,” Dick insisted. “Because a good friend, a good _boyfriend,_ would’ve made you talk about it so he could be there for you. All I cared about was that you were with me. I didn’t bother with the parts of you that weren’t — _benefitting_ me. You know?”

Jason let go of Dick’s hand and held up his palms. “Honestly, _Dick,_ you’re not helping me by listing all the ways you didn’t care about me.” Jason raked a hand through his hair and tried to pull away from Dick’s gaze. It possessed this gravity that Jason couldn’t look away from for long, but hated being caught in.

Dick seized both of Jason’s wrists and held them to his chest. _“I love you._ I’ve loved you for years. I love you now. I’ll love you forever. If you were to split some day, and we both found someone, even then, I would still love you. Okay?” Dick waited for Jason to acknowledge what he said. Reluctantly, Jason gave a curt nod. “But I didn’t care about you and I see that now. I want to _change_ that. I want to know you before you came into my life.”

Jason felt sick. He couldn’t tell if Gotham’s Jason Todd was rising from its grave, or if Haly’s was falling into its coffin. But then Dick stepped closer, and Jason finally had to look into his eyes, and he realized there might actually be a middle option. Their lips met each other halfway, Dick’s arms looped around his neck, and Jason held him until their heartbeats meshed with their breaths. And Jason could swear that, under Gotham’s night sky with the Flying Dick Grayson in his arms, two lives reached a compromise.

Dick’s back pocket dinged. “Again?” Jason complained. He nipped at Dick’s bottom lip.

Dick kissed him two more times, brief and sweet, before checking his phone. An eyebrow shot up as he read, piquing Jason’s interest. He moved to read over his shoulder.

  _Batman has decided to prioritize my situation above your investigation. Batman has kept tabs on Zucco’s every move since he was released from prison, but he has not left the apartment. Batman planned to speak to Drexel Cord, Zucco’s closest associate. If anyone knows whether Zucco is related to your mother’s capture, it’s him. I personally recommend intimidation as a tactic with this one. He’s easy, but that’s no reason to be sloppy. I give you boys two hours before Batman returns to the Mary Grayson case and flips out on you. Try not to actually *be* at Drexel’s place when it happens. Watch your backs & good luck._

_32 Shady Oak Avenue_

_— Oracle ;)_

 

* * *

 

4:00 AM

The taxi slowed to a halt by a two-family complex. The building was a faded yellow with rotting shingles. The yard was overgrown in some patches and bare in others. There was a utilitarian porch leading directly from cracked, uneven sidewalk. Not a single porch-light greeted them at this hour.

“Here you are,” announced the driver, a taciturn man with drooping bags beneath his eyes. Dick thanked and paid him as Jason quietly got out of the car, Dick following shortly after. The taxi continued down the road, engine rumbling faintly until its headlights drained from the street altogether.

Dick and Jason gazed at the house of Drexel Cord. The grass was dying and Jason now noticed that one of the windows was boarded up. “Silent as the grave, huh,” observed Dick, rubbing his jeans.

Jason stepped forward and felt glass crunch beneath his shoe. He lifted his foot; a tiny liquor bottle. “Cemeteries have better upkeep than this,” he said and made a note to be more aware of where he stepped. They would want to get the jump on Drexel. Jason found himself wishing for a gun again. The last time he had wanted one was also in Gotham.

Dick took a deep breath. “Well.” He outstretched his arm toward the porch. “Lead the way.” Jason walked to the porch, retrieving the paper clip he had straightened out during the ride. He kept one in his wallet at all times. He slid it into 32’s lock and began working. At some point, Dick told him he was going to “check the perimeter” and wandered off. Jason wasn’t sure what Dick thought he was going to find, but he just grunted in acknowledgment and focused on picking the lock.

Dick had returned by the time Jason got it open. The door creaked and they both winced, but the floor was concrete and didn’t make a sound beneath their weight. The first room had a green plaid loveseat and a giant flatscreen. Dick pointed to a hallway across and they headed towards it. Jason’s heartbeat was pounding in his ears. He kept his lips shut and breathed shallowly through his nose.

The hall revealed a bathroom and a bedroom. Jason and Dick nodded to each other and entered. Curled up like a bug in blankets on the bed was Drexel Cord. His face was round and drooped like a sad clown. He was balding at the top of his head. They stood at his bed, watching. Jason looked to Dick for guidance — he shrugged and made a face.

Maybe there was a gun in the room they could use? Shit, what if there was a gun under his pillow? Jason crept around to the other end of the mattress and gently checked under the pillow Drexel wasn’t on. Nothing. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a gun beneath the used pillow. They’d have to be careful.

On that thought was when Dick threw a leg over Drexel’s body and straddled him. Jason made a “what gives” gesture with his arms. Dick shrugged again, then gripped Drexel’s throat. “Wake up, Drexel,” he ordered.

Jesus fucking Christ, alright. So long as subtly was out the window — Jason bent over and grabbed the pillow, ripping it out from under the man. Drexel’s head hit the mattress and, yup, Jason swiped the gun and aimed it at him. “Please stop,” Dick said as Drexel flopped around. Drexel desperately pawed at Dick’s wrists, but Dick easily overpowered him. It was his legs that were going to throw Dick over any second.

Jason took the gun off safety. He pointed at Drexel’s knees and recalled his Gotham accent. “Quit movin’, Drexel, or I’ll shoot your knees off.”

“You’re trying to kill me,” Drexel wheezed, bug-eyed.

“I promise we’re not,” placated Dick. Then he removed his hands and jumped to the floor. Jason immediately reminded Drexel not to move. “I’m sorry that we got off on the wrong foot,” began Dick, holding his palms up.

Jason gave Dick a funny look. “Are you shitting me?”

Dick ignored him. “The truth is, we’re new to this. But all we need is information.”

Drexel glanced suspiciously at Jason, then fixated on Dick. “Or you’ll kill me?” he predicted.

Dick answered “no” at the same time that Jason said, “There, you get it.”

Dick glared at him.

“I’m sorry, do you have some other leverage I don’t know about?” challenged Jason.

Dick held Jason’s gaze for a beat more before sighing and looking to Drexel. He was lying flat and sweaty on his mattress. “Fine. We _might_ kill you,” Dick relented. “Let’s not find out.” Then he clapped his hands and smiled. “That’s our game!”

Drexel appeared ready to cry. “Game?” he repeated.

“Yup!” Dick rocked on the balls of his feet. “We’re all going to try our best not to kill you. But you have to participate, or else we’ll lose. We’re a _team_ in this.” He spoke firmly as a kindergarten teacher to a class of attentive kids.

“You got that, Drexel?” Jason asked. Drexel nodded. “Cool. We got this game in the bag, then.” Jason reflected on his situation and was surprised to find none of this felt surreal. Granted, he wouldn’t call this normal either. But it was no stranger than unearthing a shirt he had lost forever ago and discovering it still fit.

The odd part was that it fit Dick, too.

“We know Zucco is connected to Mary Grayson’s ransom,” Dick smoothly lied. “You tell us who he’s got doing the dirty work and we’ll be out of your hair.”

“You think _I_ know?” replied Drexel. _Bingo,_ thought Jason. _We have a lead._

Dick didn’t have a response, so Jason intervened before they could lose their intimidation. “You’re not being a team-player, Drexel,” he tsked.

“How can I?” exclaimed Drexel. “If I don’t got information, _I don’t got information.”_

“Which _sucks,_ because we _do_ got bullets,” Jason sympathized. “You better call up Zucco and ask.”

“I can’t ask him that!” said Drexel. His breaths were coming harder, panicking. “He’ll know I sold him out!”

Dick recovered from his uncertainty and said, “I guess you’ll have to come up with a list. Pick your brain. Give us some possible names.”

Drexel stared at Dick in naked shock. “You want me to orchestrate a witch hunt? I don’t even know who you bastards are with!”

“We’re with Mary Grayson,” Dick provided. “As are you for however long it takes to get her back.”

Drexel was about to protest again when something apparently registered. “Wait, wait,” he said, thinking. “Mary _Grayson,_ that’s what you said?”

Dick nodded in confirmation.

“The acrobat lady.” Drexel sighed. “I knew Haly’s was a stupid decision. And Michael was even stupider.”

Dick inched closer to the bed, visibly intrigued. “Michael?” he inquired.

“Michael who?” said Jason.

Drexel slowly sat up, eying Jason as he did so. His blanket slipped to his lap. His chest was covered in gray hairs. “You two, you’re with the Bat. So are the Graysons.” Jason and Dick remained silent as Drexel put together whatever he thought was going on. “Look, I can tell you straight-up Zucco wasn’t trying to screw over Mary-or-whatever. His business with Haly wasn’t finished, that’s all.” Drexel jabbed a stubby finger in Jason’s direction. “You can take that to Batman. Call him off, maybe. This ain’t about Mary. She was a mistake.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “You think good intentions matter? She’s still with whatever creep Zucco set on her.”

“Hey, Zucco didn’t send no creep,” defended Drexel. “Michael has a _family._ A wife and kids. He’s a good man.”

“And you’re about to be a dead man if you don’t give us a last name,” Jason matched.

Drexel sneered. “You’re not going to shoot me.”

Jason glared and pulled the trigger. The bullet tore through Drexel’s knee and he screamed, clutching the wound. Dick had gasped and leapt backwards at the sound, his hand flying to his chest. “Let me correct your first impression of me, Drexel.” Jason avoided Dick’s heavy gaze as he rounded the bed and pressed the barrel against Drexel’s nape. “I most certainly will shoot.”

“Latini! Michael Latini!” Drexel sobbed. Jason retracted the gun. There was a nearly overwhelming desire to look at Dick, to communicate something — victory perhaps, or the need for approval. He wanted to know things were okay, like he did when Dick said he loved him. But the idea that things weren’t gave him pause.

If Dick felt guilty, Jason knew he wouldn’t be able to reciprocate. Dick would be alone in feeling sorry, because all Jason could think was _we got a lead._

He decided he didn’t want to know how Dick felt just yet.

 

* * *

 

5:00 AM

They sat outside on Drexel’s porch and watched the sun slowly rise, peeking through the trees as if shy. Jason held Drexel’s gun between his knees while Dick stared at his shoes. Dick felt obligated to make sure Drexel pulled through okay, but neither of them thought calling 911 was a good idea. Nonetheless, they couldn’t stay in that house and deal with the aftermath. So they ignored Oracle’s warning and waited numbly for Batman to take control and make it all better.

Batman arrived earlier than Oracle had predicted. Ironically, it was a blessing. He stormed onto the lawn, broad shoulders taut with fury. “I’m not even going to ask how. You two have proven yourselves capable of all manners of idiocy.” Dick lifted his head to speak, but Batman held up a hand. “Don’t worry. I’ve resigned myself to the fact I’m not getting rid of you until this case is resolved. Consider yourselves temporary partners.”

Jason rested his cheek on his palm. “Is it Christmas already?” he mumbled.

“Drexel has a bullet in his knee,” Dick supplied.

Batman’s expression sharpened. _“What?”_ Jason lazily waved his gun. “Why do you have that?” Batman growled.

“I confiscated it from Drexel,” said Jason. “I also shot him in the knee.”

Batman curled his fists. “Do you know how dangerous guns are?”

Jason contemplated Batman’s question. His first thought was that he was a hypocrite. As he inspected all he had witnessed over the course of today, however, he realized Batman hadn’t used a gun once. Did any of the tales, swapped between Gothamites, mention a gun? “Stop trying to analyze me and answer the question,” Batman insisted. “I can read faces. I repeat, _do you know that guns are dangerous?”_

Jason leaned backwards, the hair on his arms rising just a little beneath the Bat’s glare. Jason forced a smirk. “Drexel sure does.”

Batman shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he remarked. “And I suppose you left him there to call his mafia buddies too?”

“Oh!” Dick said in alarm, glancing behind at the door.

Jason’s hand instinctively brushed Dick’s. “Relax,” he told Batman. “He’s going to have a hard time getting to a phone without a leg.”

“Do you know where his phone _is?”_ Batman questioned.

“Well, no.”

“Figures.” Batman stepped between them and marched inside the house.

Neither of them followed. Jason’s hand remained on Dick’s, but he could tell he wasn’t providing any relief. Dick’s shoulders were hunched and he sat at angle pointing away from Jason. His entire demeanor was tense and closed-off. “Alright,” Jason sighed. “I’ll bite. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m fine,” came the terse reply.

Jason laughed humorously. “You certainly are _not._ You’re pissed as shit.”

Dick glanced at him, then looked away again. “I’ll get over it. I promise.”

“Is it because I shot him?” Jason pressed.

Dick sighed, long and deep. “Just — was it really necessary? We had the upper hand. We didn’t have to make good on the threat.”

“We didn’t,” Jason argued. “Our threat was to kill him. We just gave him a bum knee.” He didn’t want to prove he was right. He wanted Dick to forgive him and move on. He rubbed his face. “Look, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, so I did what was easy.”

Dick clasped his fingers and lay his chin on his knees. “I know,” he said in a small voice. “I’m not even saying you were _wrong._ You weren’t _right,”_ he added, stronger. “But as far as violence being the answer goes, it wasn’t the worst possible outcome. It worked,” he admitted. He was facing Jason directly now. “I’m just going to need sort it out. I’ve never been in this kind of situation. It’s _shocking.”_ Dick smiled halfheartedly and squeezed Jason’s hand. “Let me think. I’ll get over it.”

Jason was about to say _you don’t have to get over it,_ or something similarly selfless that he didn’t mean as truthfully as he probably should’ve, when another car parked in front of the house.

A sturdy man stepped out in a brown suit jacket and made his way towards them. Dick immediately startled to his feet. Jason stood with him, carefully hiding his gun behind his back.

“So!” said the man, loud despite the time of day. “The big bad Bat is at my throat again!”

“Anthony Zucco!” Dick named, eyes blown wide in surprise and lips sneering.

Zucco kept walking as if Dick hadn’t said a thing. “Didn’t want it to come to this, but you know what they say. Man’s gotta’ do what a man’s gotta’ do.” He pulled back his jacket, revealing a gun. Zucco fired at the same second Jason shoved Dick off the porch. Dick cried in pain as he hit the grass. Blood pooled on the side of his abdomen, Dick desperately covering the hole with his fingers.

Zucco was momentarily entranced by Dick, grin stretching across his fat face. “Hey, wait a second. _I know you!”_

Jason brought his gun from behind him and fired his gun. He aimed for Zucco’s chest, but he got his shoulder instead. Zucco stumbled backwards with a shout. He pointed his gun at Jason. Jason felt terror white and cold and still. It took every diminishing coherent thought to not shut his eyes as he shot again, and again, and again, until Zucco collapsed on the ground.

Jason heard Batman rush out onto the porch, but he couldn’t budge. His fingers were welded to the gun and his eyes were locked on Zucco’s splayed form. Blood soaked him in random spots, like the polka dots on a clown suit. Batman’s hand came crashing down on Jason’s, pulling the gun out of his fists. “What did I tell you?” was all he said in censure. He gently pushed Jason, not enough to move him, just enough to jog his muscle memory. “Carry Dick into the car,” he instructed.

Jason absently did as he said, walking around the porch and hefting him into his arms. He pressed Dick’s head into his chest, just to feel him breathing. His face was twisted in distress, brows pinched and teeth grit. Sweat collected at his forehead. Batman carried Zucco. “Dick and Zucco in the backseat; you in the front,” he directed.

Jason shook his head no and got into the back, Dick in his arms. Batman didn’t object. He fixed Zucco into the passenger’s seat. Jason was vaguely aware of Batman winding a bandage around Dick’s torso.

The engine started. “I patched Drexel Cord up, as well as bound him. The neighbors, no doubt, have called the authorities after all the gunfire. Drexel will be fine,” Batman summarized. Jason took his time processing all he said. It was like running in a dream. His thoughts were sluggish, like legs caught caught in snow, and everything was fuzzy and white. _“You’ll_ be fine, Jason,” continued Batman. “If you can, sleep. It’s been a long couple days and they’re not getting shorter any time soon.”


	6. Day Six: First Break-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so that was how Jason’s day was spent: in a beautiful car with a man dressed as a flying rodent, spam-texting a boy places where his bound-and-gagged mother might be while feeling increasingly jilted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited this myself, so I apologize if there's any errors I didn't pick up on. As I said, the break-up chapter is going to come before the "first time" chapter for pacing reasons.
> 
> Thanks for reading everyone!!! One more chapter after this!

Jason supposed he should’ve been a mess of nerves. Dr. Thompkins had placed a vomit bucket beside him in the waiting room. He didn’t need it. All he could feel was a deep need for rest that drowned all other emotion in a tidal wave of exhaustion. The walls of the free clinic echoed silent and empty, a white noise CD humming him to sleep. The timeline from the car ride to the deserted lobby dragged on in a series of  _ blink,  _ awake, _ blink, _ asleep,  _ blink,  _ somewhere in between. Occasionally he’d hear a clip of conversation down the hall and think he was conscious, but then he’d notice the way his chair rocked like a boat assail and he’d recognize the gentle claim of a dream in the back of his mind. 

The first time the Batman beckoned, “Jason,” he thought it might be in his head. It wasn’t until Batman said his name the third time, with an added edge, that Jason registered he should be standing up. He stiffly walked to the hall where Batman stood outside Dr. Thompkins’ closed door. “Anthony Zucco is dead,” Batman updated. 

“Okay.”

“You took a man’s life,” explained Batman, as if Jason didn’t know that. As if it mattered whether Zucco rotted in a prison cell or a grave. 

The white clock on the white wall ticked. “How’s Dick?” Jason asked.

“I told you guns were dangerous.”

Jason didn’t want to have this argument, but he certainly wasn’t going to lose. “If I had listened to you, would you be saying this to Zucco instead? Because I think he wouldn't care either.”

Batman didn’t respond. Jason counted it as a win. “Dick is fine,” Batman answered after a while of staring. “The bullet only grazed him and he didn’t lose a fatal amount of blood. He’s conscious.”

Relief washed over him. “Can I see him?”

Batman hesitated, but eventually nodded his head and stepped away from the door. Jason entered the room where a divider stretched down the middle. Dr. Thompkins was somberly fastening a body bag on a gurney. She didn’t look up when Jason came in, so he went directly to Dick’s cot. Dick’s dark skin had paled. He almost looked like his mother this way, save for the sickly yellow tinging his cheeks. Dick waited quietly for Jason to speak. 

“So, I’m guessing you heard the news of, uh.” Jason pointed at the divider.

“Yeah.” Dick’s voice was weak. Jason suddenly felt guilty for talking; Dick should be resting. Jason should kiss him on the forehead and return to the waiting room. He knew Dick was okay. That should be enough.

It wasn’t, and Jason had a niggling fear that he wanted Dick to assuage. “Are you pissed at me?” he asked. Dick didn’t say anything, merely looked at him with eyelids that drooped before fluttering open, then drooped again. “For shooting him,” he clarified, hoping it would galvanize Dick to answer so Jason could pack away the paranoia and leave it with everything that happened at Drexel Cord’s house. 

Dick inhaled, closing his eyes momentarily. “Don’t think so,” he slurred. The anxiety that had been stifled by Jason’s exhaustion pricked. It was like Dick had smothered a fire with a blanket, but the blanket just caught flame. Here was the problem: if Dick went to sleep unsure, would he wake up and decide he  _ was  _ angry after all? Dick had been incensed when Jason simply  _ injured  _ somebody. The body bag on the other side of the divider was another level altogether.

If Dick woke up and resented Jason, they wouldn’t be able to move on from this. Mary would be back and they’d be at Haly’s, but they’d carry Gotham with them. Jason needed to fix this before it was too late. “Tell me what you’re feeling. And don’t say tired,” commanded Jason. 

The corner of Dick’s lips quirked upwards. “Can I say ‘drained’? I’m feeling drained. Not just sleep-wise.” His eyes flickered to the blood bag feeding his IV. “Drained.  _ Of blood.” _

“I get it,” Jason cut in. He tried again. “I want to know what you think about — about Zucco. Batman’s not on my side,” he snuck in the guilt trip, although he personally didn’t give a damn about Batman’s opinion. “I need to know if  _ you _ are.”

Dick’s lips were a thin line. “I wish I hadn’t seen it,” he confessed. “I wish I hadn’t heard the gun firing five million times, or heard the sobbing. That’s all I’m feeling.” Dick looked at Jason helplessly. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll think more of it later.”

Dick wanted to keep the peace. Jason understood that. But keeping the peace would only allow Dick’s resentment to fester. They needed to air it out so they could move on. “You’re mad I did it,” surmised Jason.

“Jason, _ please.” _

“I know you’re upset.”

“I’m  _ tired.  _ And I wish it hadn’t happened. That’s  _ all.” _

“Dick — ”

“What do you want me to  _ say,  _ Jay?” Dick’s voice raised, but he obviously did not have the energy to yell. “That it scares me you’re not bothered? That all you care about is what  _ I _ think when you  _ killed someone?  _ I don’t want to talk about this!” 

When Dick’s voice cracked, Jason wanted to crawl onto the cramped cot and fall asleep beside him. He wanted to hold his hand and kiss it and apologize for everything. He wanted Dick to never look and sound so broken, because in all his life Jason had never known someone stronger and if Dick couldn’t take Gotham, then there was no hope for Jason. 

But his feet were glued to the linoleum of Dr. Thompkins’ free clinic, just as they had been glued to the ground when Zucco’s barrel was trained at his head and all he could move was his finger. “You’re the one who always said talking it out is best,” Jason reminded. In the background, Dr. Thompkins rolled the gurney out the room. The door shut softly behind them. 

“This is _ different,” _ said Dick. “We can’t — hug this out.”

“Then what do we do?”

“Put it to  _ rest. _ Let me  _ sleep.”  _ Jason didn’t move until Dick issued, _ “Go.” _

Jason complied, even though each step felt like willingly walking the plank — away from everything that kept him afloat and alone towards what threatened to drown him. Jason was comfortable with fire, knew how to fan flames with his breath and light himself without getting hurt. But as he turned the knob and stepped into the hall, there were no crowds cheering him on. Two tricks that escaped his mind: how to extinguish a flash fire and how to soothe a burn. 

Batman had set up camp in the waiting room, cozied into a sofa chair with a novel in his lap. Jason plopped down in the hard plastic chair beside him. “Where’d you get the book?” he asked, distracting himself. He stretched his arms and legs showily, forcing a haughty yawn that quickly became genuine. “All I see are archaic magazines.”

“Leslie keeps books in her office,” Batman replied, turning a page. “They’re not for bored patients.”

Jason sunk in his seat. “Right,” he said wryly. “Just for bored lunatics in bat costumes.”

Batman actually smiled. It wasn’t a full, teeth-baring grin, but — it was there, no question. “There’s more of us than you might think,” he hinted, tone mild.

That was creepy. “What, like a Shamu act? Or is there a secret society?” Batman shook his head, eyes on his book and still smiling. Jason shifted closer, lowering his volume. “If I kill you, do I become the new Batman?”

Batman closed his book and looked at Jason. “I think your death toll is high enough for one night, don’t you?”

A callous part of Jason nearly remarked that ‘one’ was not a very big number. He shifted away from Batman. “I’m going to take that as a ‘yes, but don’t get any funny ideas.’”

“If that’s what you prefer to hear,” permitted Batman. 

“It is.”

Batman glanced at the ticking white clock before setting his book atop the magazines on an end table. “I took the liberty of looking through Zucco’s phone contacts earlier. I found Michael Latini’s number and sent it to Oracle. She is currently searching for his location, though it will be a few hours. Midnight was the agreed time for Haly and Latini, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we have 18 hours. I’ve already spoken to Haly.”

Jason had gotten numerous calls from Haly while he was boarding the plane here. He had ignored them all. Frankly, he had forgotten about him entirely by this point. “He hasn’t paid anything, has he?”

“No,” Batman replied. “Mainly because he does not have the funds. Latini upped the price.”

That was unsettling. “Why?” Had Latini found out about Zucco’s death and figured a bigger reward would make the oncoming shitstorm worth it?

“Haly doesn’t know. I can only guess that Latini feels emboldened by his plan progressing smoothly.”

“You don’t think he knows Zucco’s dead, do ya’?”

“Incredibly implausible,” assured Batman. “Zucco’s last exchange with Latini was twelve hours before the break-in at Drexel’s. Latini would have no way of knowing anything that transpired after 4 PM yesterday.”

Jason’s alarm subsided. “Well,” he mumbled, “that’s good at least.”

“It is. I figured I would give Dick another hour to recuperate. Then I’d drive us to my private jet.”

“Wow.”

“I have — a  _ friend _ stocking the jet with refreshments, so that you and Dick can eat on the flight.”

“Just wow.”

Batman frowned. “My jet is quicker than a commercial plane and we will not have to wait for a scheduled flight. This is practical. What is the problem?”

Jason shrugged and laughed — just a little, just enough to feel slightly more human. “Absolutely nothing, Batman. All is good in Jason Town. Hand me a mag, yeah?” Still frowning, the Batman slid a magazine out from under his book and passed it to him. Jason slouched against the back of his chair and spread the magazines over his eyes. “Wake me in an hour.”

 

* * *

 

11:00 A.M.

Dick didn’t technically ignore Jason. But he wasn’t warm like he usually was, and he barely spoke the whole flight. Batman had leant Jason  _ The Valley of Fear  _ to read, while Dick contented himself on his cellphone. They both attempted to sleep, but the prospect of finding Mary charged the energy around them. Jason could feel himself gearing for the end to this mess, and his thoughts were so preoccupied that he frequently had to reread several paragraphs after turning a page. Dick’s fingers and feet tapped at a constant jazz-like pace on his thighs and on the seats and on the food trays holding bowls of cereal. Jason couldn’t decide if he felt excited or apprehensive; either way, tension was thicker than air itself inside the stuffy jet.

Haly knew about their arrival and had cleared an area beforehand for their landing. Out the window, the big top stuck out with its red and yellow stripes. The scent of cotton candy spilled from his memories and a longing for his mattress on the train tugged at his chest. Jason set the book on the seat beside him and watched as the jet descended. He glanced at Dick across from him, expecting to share their homecoming, but Dick stared out the window with his forehead pressed to the glass and the back of his skull facing Jason. Some of the colors in Haly’s Circus dulled.

Haly greeted them when they stepped off the plane. He wrapped Dick in a tight hug, then released him to pull Jason into his burly arms. “You kids are insane,” he told them, grinning. “But you keep your promises, so I can’t complain.”

“And you,” began Haly, shaking Batman’s hand, “I never thought I’d see you again, but I’m glad I did.”

Batman cut to the chase. “An associate of mine has pinpointed Mary Grayson’s location. We have immediate plans to safely retrieve her and bring Michael Latini to justice.”

Dick cleared his throat, summoning everyone’s attention. “I know this won’t be a popular decision, but — I trust my mom will be in good hands,” he said, gaze landing on Batman alone. Jason stood between the two, but shifted some steps back as if Dick had physically pushed him out of the group. 

Why didn’t he look at Jason too? Did he not trust him anymore? 

“Earlier on the plane, my dad texted me,” Dick continued. 

“Is he okay?” Haly asked, the worry lines on his face appearing. 

Dick’s expression was soft and sincere when he met Haly’s eyes. “He’s fine. He went joyriding to blow off some steam and wasn’t paying attention to streets signs. Once he calmed down, he tried to find a police station to get Mom back. He just got himself more lost. He’s been driving for hours now and he’s low on gas, so he pulled over.”

“No GPS?” asked Batman, unimpressed.

Jason crossed his arms. “We can’t all afford private jets or smartphones.”

“Fortunately,” Dick went on, ignoring them, “I had Batman’s  _ associate  _ in my saved contacts, so I texted her and she found where he’s at like, literally just twenty minutes ago.” He smiled as Haly sighed in relief. “I’m going to borrow one of Joanne’s bikes and pick him up,” Dick finished. 

Haly chuckled. It was a happy, exhausted sound. “Dick, you and your family are going to be the death of me. That means you, too, young man,” Haly directed to Jason. Jason ducked his head so he wouldn’t have to force a smile. Dick’s withdrawal after the hospital hadn’t implied _ family.  _ Haly’s welcome shouldn’t go to his head. 

“I can come with you,” Jason offered. “I’m the better driver.”

Dick shook his head. “It’s only an hour drive. And I could use the time to myself, no offense.” 

Jason didn’t respond, just looked away and tried to ignore the rejection. 

“You and your father better get a move-on,” Batman advised. “Your mother will want to see you both as soon as possible after what she’s been through.” There was an undeniable note of disapproval in his tone. 

Dick’s lips quirked. “Yeah, you’re right.” He took a deep breath and nodded curtly before jogging across the parking lot and toward the circus entrance. “We’ll keep in touch!” he shouted.

Jason was a mess of emotions. He was relieved with the knowledge they’d have Mary back soon, but anxious over what gun might be pulled when they found her. He was relieved that Dick was on his feet, but anxious that it meant he was pulling away from Jason with each step. He even felt guilty for knowing that, had Dick said yes, Jason would’ve left Mary to Batman and started the next road trip.

“Screw your head back on,” growled Batman, jerking Jason out of his thoughts. Haly was halfway to the circus entrance. “We’re not having a repeat of last night.”

It was time to get down to business then. “Where’s Latini?”

“On a highway,” answered Batman.

“What?” Jason was taken aback. He had assumed Latini would be parked somewhere, like a junkyard or some crowded shopping district. “Where the fuck is he going?”

“Unclear. Nowhere far, since he wants his money tonight.”

Which still meant Latini had thirteen hours to do god-fucking-knows with Mary. “You said we had  _ immediate plans _ to get her!” Jason reminded. 

“And we _ do,” _ snapped Batman. “We have  _ plans. _ If you have a complaint about the schedule, you can try taking it up with the man currently in charge of it.” 

This was unbelievable. Jason was an idiot for thinking shit would be this easy, for going along with Batman’s sugar-coating for Haly.  _ “Fuck.  _ What now? We play tic-tac-toe until the shitface stops for a Big Mac?” 

“I was going to work on strategies for confronting him, but I won’t stop you from wasting your own time.”

“Ha- _ ha,” _ Jason sneered. “You’re fucking hilarious, really, Bats. It’s not like I have reason to be pissed, after all. You _ totally  _ didn’t misportray the situation.”

“I did. But only because I realize the delicacy of it. Haly has a business to run and performers he cares about spread across a state he’s not familiar with. He doesn’t need to further stress over the parts we’ll handle.” Batman stared him down until Jason resignedly broke his glare. “Is that  _ alright  _ with you?” Batman asked.

Jason shoved his hands in his jean pockets and glowered at his beat-up shoes. “Yeah, it’s  _ wonderful,” _   he ground out, because that was all Batman would hear anyway.

 

* * *

 

They spent forever and a half debating different strategies for every possible plan deviation. Dick hadn’t texted anyone that Jason knew of, despite his promise to “keep in touch.” Jason was past the point of feeling tired, and now his sleep-deprivation marathon made itself known in aching bones and too-alert eyes. He was jumpy. His mind wandered often to Dick and Mary. If he didn’t stay on guard, his brain would take the reigns and envision all sorts of bike accidents and crime-drama torture scenes.

“Maybe you should sleep,” Haly had mentioned once.

“Mind your own business,” Jason had replied snappily, cradling his second can of soda. 

Batman briefly detached himself from their blueprints to assure Haly that Jason would rest when he had completed his task. Haly had frowned, told Jason to mind his health, and departed from the one quiet room they could find on the train. 

All the while, Batman kept the tracker Oracle had sent open on his phone. The yellow dot representing Latini was perennially on the move. They kept their eyes on it as they discussed, revising Plan X here and Plan O there depending on the latest location. 

Eventually, however, the dot  _ did _ halt. Jason and Batman hopped in the car (carried conveniently by the private jet) and sped after it. 

Jason texted Dick the location, just in case. He told himself he wasn’t expecting a response. He had sent it only to inform the rest of Mary’s family of her whereabouts. That helped his ego somewhat when no response came, but it did nothing to mollify the nightmarish paranoia exhaustion created. Car accident statistics flooded his mind.

If Dick died on the road, what would Jason remember their relationship as? Would he recount it to others as a teenage fling, or would it be the all-consuming stuff of romantic epics? Or would the bright colors they had spent years painting together be drained from his memory by the last few hours? 

What would Jason regret the most about how things ended?

“He’s moving again,” observed Batman. 

Jason sighed and closed his eyes. “Of course, he is.” 

“We’re a far enough distance that we can follow him without drawing suspicion.”

Jason sent another text:  _ Nevermind that last location. Latini’s not there anymore.  _ He nearly added:  _ Reply asap,  _ but ultimately backspaced. He shouldn’t push. 

And so that was how Jason’s day was spent: in a beautiful car with a man dressed as a flying rodent, spam-texting a boy places where his bound-and-gagged mother might be while feeling increasingly jilted.

 

* * *

 

The sun gradually retreated from the sky as they drove down endless roads and infinite highways. Latini made several pit-stops, but never stayed in one place long enough for them to catch up. Neither of them were sure they’d catch him until 11 at night when he finally parked on Maiden Lane, the exchange area Haly had agreed upon. Batman told Jason to call Haly. 

“Change of plans,” Jason had said. “You’re coming to the meeting. You don’t need any money.”

“Then why do you need me?”

Jason didn’t like the taste of the word, but he pushed it through his teeth nonetheless. “Distraction.” Batman guided Jason through the phone call: “Don’t bring anyone else. Don’t bring any weapons. Don’t involve cops. Just drive here alone.” 

Batman stopped a couple streets away, waiting for Haly to text them that he had arrived. Jason was getting antsy waiting in the car. Mary was so close. And Dick  _ still  _ hadn’t responded. He wanted to get out to, to stretch his legs, but Batman’s orders were strict. Needing catharsis, Jason punched the car window from inside. 

“Whatever you may be going through,” Batman reproached, grabbing Jason’s fist, “damaging my car is _ not _ an acceptable form of expression.”

Jason jerked his hand out of Batman’s grasp. “Fuck you!” His text tone went off and he snatched his phone from his lap. Haly was at Maiden Lane. The two of them got out of the car and made their way to the exchange. 

Maiden Lane was a depressing ghost of a neighborhood comprised of empty slum properties and foreclosures. Many of the houses resembled outlandishly bad cakes; charred shingles like burnt frosting and vine-choked infrastructure spilling sideways like unbaked batter.

Batman took the street opposite Jason. Jason marched onward, cloaked in the night, eyes fixed on the transaction ahead. An unknown man stood beside his car, Mary’s throat locked in his arm as he pointed a gun at Haly. As Jason neared, he could hear Latini speaking angrily. 

“Where’s the money, man? I said I wanted cash!” 

“I have it, I swear! Just — let Mary go, please.”

A click sounded from Latini’s gun. Jason was very near now and could make out the zip-ties around Mary’s wrists and ankles.“The deal was money first, lady second!”

Jason knew the plan, intended to follow the plan, but the plan was rendered abruptly useless when Mary headbutted Latini. Jason bursted into a running pace as Mary headbutted Latinia gain, slamming the back of his skull against the van. Jason launched at him while Latini was caught off guard, the force of his body knocking Mary to the ground.

Jason noticed the bat-shaped boomerangs in his peripheral vision. The blades sliced through Mary’s zip-ties and she scrambled out of the way while Jason wrenched Latini’s arm into the air. 

Latini was firing his pistol wildly. Jason worked on instinct, pinning Latini to the cement and twisting his arm this way and that, kneeing him in the groin and the stomach. He was expecting a bullet to pierce his head, was quickly accepting that fate even as he fought violently against it. 

Then Batman finally tore the gun from Latini and Jason just wailed on him. He punched him until Latini’s face was wet and Jason’s entire fist was a rich red. He didn’t stop until Batman caught him by the elbow and yanked him off. 

Jason’s heart thudded and he shook out of Batman’s grasp. Latini was crumpled on the ground, face unrecognizable. The gun was disassembled by their feet. Batman didn’t say a word, which was good, because Jason probably wouldn’t have processed it properly. Gunfire was ringing in his ears. The earth seemed to rotate beneath his feet while he just stood in one place, apart from the rest of the world and its movement. He was launched out of orbit. 

Jason vaguely registered police sirens in the distance. Shortly after, a beat-up Volkswagen and a motorcycle slowly stopped behind Haly’s car. 

Dick kicked the stand on his bike and set his helmet on the seat. He was barely off the bike when Mary embraced him, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest. Dick held her, breathing in her hair. John got out of his car and joined the hug. Haly rubbed Mary’s shoulder. 

Jason watched as the world turned. The four did not detach until the police cars showed up and uniforms pried Mary away. He sluggishly realized she was sobbing. They all were. Dick squeezed Mary’s arm, and she squeezed him back without looking away from the officers questioning her. 

Dick’s eye met Jason’s and he ran up to engulf him in a hug. Jason stumbled back, his head reeling. Dick’s breath was on his skin and his heartbeat drummed against Jason’s chest. He felt the world reorient beneath him as Dick pressed a kiss to Jason’s bare neck. Jason hugged him back.

“Would you hate me if I told you I had fallen asleep?” Dick confessed, lips right below Jason’s ears. “I was talking to Dad in his car and we both drifted off. We slept for a solid seven hours. When we saw the time we were _ horrified.  _ Dad insisted on back-up, so I gave in and called the cops. 

“God, I feel fucking awful. How could I sleep when my mom could’ve been  _ dead?”  _ As he babbled, Jason rubbed soothing circles on his back. 

“She’s fine,” comforted Jason.

Dick lifted his head. Tears plastered his face. “Are you?  _ Jesus, _ Jason. You look like a wreck.”

“Fuck you,” Jason said without heat.

Dick’s laugh was like sparks from frayed wires. “We can do that later, tiger. Sound good?”

_ Later,  _ he had said. “So.” Jason licked his lips and swallowed. “You and me, we’re not over?”

Dick cocked his head, smile confused. Tears still streamed from his eyes in a silent cry. “What do you mean?” he asked. 

“I thought, after all this shit, we’d be done. You wouldn’t want me after what I did to Zucco.” And because Jason needed to say the words aloud: “I killed him. You saw that. I don’t regret it.”

“You shouldn’t,” Dick agreed, voice firm. “It was you or him, Jay. I hate what happened, but I don’t hate you. I never did.”

It wasn’t enough. Jason needed to  _ know.  _ Needed Dick to spell it out with definite clarity. “We’re not over, then. Tell me — ”

“I already  _ did,” _ Dick interrupted. “What did I say to you last night, about loving you forever? I  _ meant  _ it.” He took Jason’s hand, the one soaked in Latini’s blood, and kissed the knuckles. The blood got on Dick’s lips and fingers as they held hands. “I love you no matter what. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that in the clinic. _ I love you.” _

There it was, what Jason needed. It was enough and then some. Jason surged forward, catching Dick’s mouth and pressing in. The kiss deepened instantly, Dick’s lips parting for him and his bangs tickling Jason’s face. Jason had experienced far prettier kisses, ones with blue skies and less trauma, but he couldn’t recall a happier kiss than the one where Dick’s tears salted both their lips and the promise of  _ forever _ felt more concrete than the ground they stood on.

When they pulled apart, Dick asked where Batman was. He wanted to thank him. Jason looked around Maiden Lane. 

The blinking lights of the cop cars casted eerie splashes of red and blue onto the dilapidated houses. One of the officers spoke to someone over the radio, the replies filtering through in clips of static. Police cars formed a barrier around them.

Latini was breathing heavily, nose stuffed with blood, unconscious on his back. He was zip-tied by the ankles, knees, and wrists. 

Haly was in a conversation with two officers. He kept touching his face and fidgeting, tossing glances at Jason and the Graysons every now and then. The cops nodded patiently.

Mary had a blanket over her shoulders. She sat atop the Volkswagen, John’s arm looped around her waist. as a woman recorded her answers on a yellow notepad.

Batman was nowhere to be found.


	7. Day Seven: First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another firework was released, this one immense in size, and it bloomed across the sky in blue and red seeds. “Wow,” Dick breathed, and his hand came up to gently shake Jason’s shoulder. Jason’s eyes followed the long knuckles to the lean arms to the curve of Dick’s neck. The condoms and the lotion Jason had hurriedly stuffed in his pockets suddenly weighed a hundred pounds. Jason thought of all the places he could kiss him — the dip of his throat, the top of his brow, the dimples in his lower back, the soft skin between his thighs — and leaned for his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! Thanks to anyone who stuck around for me <3
> 
> Unfortunately, this chapter is unbeta'd. But for a good cause - my beta is out celebrating their birthday with their grandparents! If you catch any mistakes, feel free to point them out.

The Fourth of July was a special event for Haly’s Circus. The show was outdoors, the big-ticket acts finishing up before 8 PM so that the audience could wander off to watch the fireworks early. Everyone’s costumes appropriately featured at least one color from the American flag. (Dick was always blue and Jason was always red. Wardrobe went smoothly for them.) The big top wasn’t pulled out, but smaller tents lined the lot in red, white, and blue stripes. Sparklers were added to the standard merchandise, along with festive tour shirts and patriotic snow cones. 

Jason had never seen a larger show in his time with Haly. He didn’t have any frame of reference, but he liked to think it was comparable to the Ringling Brothers. Maybe even Cirque du Soleil. And why wouldn’t it be? Their show had been advertised on _ television. _ There were traffic jams all over Gotham, roads packed with people wanting to see them — wanting to see  _ Jason. _

“The boy on fire,” the commercial had called him. Daring and dangerous, an act unlike any other this upcoming holiday in Gotham City. There was an accompanying clip of Jason spinning rapidly on the balls of his feet, two fire hoops blazing around his rotating arms. Celebrate freedom with America’s freest. Sponsored by Wayne Enterprises.

Dick had been in the commercial too. “Death-defying” was his adjective. Haly was starting to acknowledge him more as he grew. There was no doubt that Dick would carry the mantle of The Flying Graysons after his parents retired. Perhaps he would find a partner — perhaps not. For now, Dick was content to be part of a trio. John caught Mary on the screen, tossing her to the next bar. The next shot was Dick poised on a tightrope, winking at the camera as he smiled radiantly. 

It was a unanimous agreement that the Fourth of July would be their greatest show yet. The entire show would be recorded, courtesy of Wayne Enterprises, whose major department employees would be given pre-paid tickets for two. Haly’s Circus was decisively pulling out all the stops. Haly wanted “dynamic, edge-of-your-seats, fantastic.” Their routines were fresh. New moves were being added. There was not a single person on the train whose veins weren’t coursing with pure energy. A chant of  _ this is it, this is it, this is it  _ seemed to pulse throughout the circus, a rhythmic cadence beating between the colorful tents and the crowded cotton candy stands.

For Jason, the day played out like fireworks. Flashes of moments that lit up his mind weeks after. 

A knock on the wall behind his bed that woke him up. Dick kneeling on the floor, peering intensely over Jason’s mattress. Jason yelling and knocking him upside the head with a pillow until Dick was a giggling mess on the floor, apologies mixed in with his laughter. 

Breakfast in the cafeteria, Dick melting into his side like the butter on Jason’s pancakes. Chatter louder than Eleanor’s trumpets as people talked about the new acts, about how many tickets had sold, about whether they would get to see the fireworks tonight. 

Show time with tightropes and streamers held up by metal machinery. The Flying Graysons in all blue, feathers patterning their costumes like birds in flight. Mary, safe and okay, where she belonged — in the open sky, in her husband’s arms, clasping Dick’s hands. Jason couldn’t see them far down below, but he knew her eyes were the same blissful blue as Dick’s. Knew this fact like he knew Dick got his warm brown skin from his dad, his lean build from them both, and his smile from the circus.

Jason on stage as the crowd gasped and cheered. Fire lancing his arms. Leaping through rings of fire. Twirling his poi stick as he ran across the platform and jumped backwards. Holding the small wire in his mouth and exhaling on the gasoline in short puffs that elongated the flame. Fireworks in their own right, and Jason had made them himself. Somewhere on the grass, away from the audience, Jason knew Dick was clapping for him. 

After his act, racing from the showers to Dick’s train compartment. Dick sat cross-legged on his bed, his dark hair damp and tousled. He was sporting a pair of short-shorts, a Superman tank-top, and a red bow tie. “What the fuck are you  _ wearing?”  _ Jason had immediately asked. 

Dick frowned and tugged self-consciously at his bow. “It’s a date, isn’t it? I wanted to be formal.”

“You’re wearing shorts.”

Dick looked annoyed.  _ “Well _ , it’s not exactly autumn weather outside. I didn’t want to get overheated.”

“Alright,” accepted Jason. “The Superman shirt, then.”

“You said you  _ liked  _ Superman.”

“I said he was  _ okay,”  _ Jason corrected.

“And I, the forgiving boyfriend that I am, substituted ‘okay’ with ‘god’s gift to mankind,’” explained Dick, hopping to the floor. 

Jason stepped out into the hall. “How many of our conversations go like that? With you just blanking out and pretending I said whatever sounds good?”

Dick followed. “Thanks! I thought the bow tie was a really nice touch, too.”

Jason willed himself not to smile. “Uh-huh,” he said. They hurried through the compartments, Dick babbling amiably behind. Once they were off the train, it was easier to gauge the sheer mass of attendance. The acts were the main draw, but so many people had come for the games. A little girl in her mother’s arms giggled and pointed at Ronny in stilts. Lauren, wearing her cheap red wig and clown shoes, was making balloon crowns for three college-aged girls. A small family was having their picture taken atop Eleanor. 

They had a hard time holding hands with how dense the area was, but they weren’t letting go. Dick squeezed Jason’s hand as they walked. “What a beautiful night,” he observed giddily. 

Dick’s enthusiasm was infectious. “Looking forward to the fireworks?” Jason asked.

Dick pressed against Jason’s shoulder and waggled his eyebrows obnoxiously. “All  _ kinds.” _

Jason shoved him off, so Dick stumbled backwards a couple feet as he laughed. He bumped into someone in the cotton candy line. “Sorry!” he exclaimed, whirling to face the man.

“It’s alright. It’s all good in the neighborhood,” assured the man. His laugh was a warm, guttural wheeze. Jason had thought it sounded familiar when the man’s eyes landed on him. He grinned, leathery cheeks bunching in happiness. “Hey! I know you, boy! You that kid I saw waitin’ for a taxi way, way back.”

 

 _“Not a big reader myself,” the man confessed. “But I was bored. Been waitin’ for a damn cab all day. You okay, boy?”_  
_Jason’s neck was sore and his jacket was missing. He had slept for maybe an hour, two at best. He could feel that in his bones. There was a dull drumming in his head, too. “I got punched in the face and blacked out next to a greasy diner. Not even a little okay,” Jason answered._

_ The man laughed around his cigarette. It was a guttural, wheezing noise, but Jason kind of liked it. “The fact you ain’t hiding it is a sign you’re better than a lot of us.” _

 

Jason could only stare blankly for a couple moments. He was stunned. He had never thought they’d meet.

“Ah, he doesn’t remember me,” the man said to Dick. “It’s alright. He was real young.” The man laughed again.

“No,” Jason interrupted. “I remember. We agreed to meet up at the cotton candy stand.”

The man nodded eagerly. “Yeah! I saw your face at a Walmart, under missing kids.” Jason tensed, yet the man didn’t linger. “But I had the feeling you were fine, just drifting.” He snapped his fingers. “I bet you a cotton candy that you wouldn’t have an acrobat on your arm.”

Dick’s face brightened. “You told me this!” he said to Jason. “When we met! Ha, you were hilarious!”

 

_ “I’m here because I bet another guy cotton candy that I’d be here with an acrobat on my arm.” It took Dick’s posture straightening for Jason to remember he was an acrobat. By then, his face was hot enough to help Haly’s welders with their fancy equipment. _

_ “And are you...working on that?” Dick said slowly. _

_ Jason pushed through the embarrassment. “I don’t know,” he replied. “Got any better-looking acrobats?” _

 

Jason flushed. “Whatever. It wasn’t  _ that _ funny.”

Dick smiled between Jason and the man from his past. “You know,” he began impishly, “I’m an acrobat.”

“Are you now?” said the man, good-natured. 

“The youngest Flying Grayson, at your service.” Dick bowed his head then returned to Jason’s side. He wrapped his arms around Jason’s arm. Panic rushed in as Jason thought,  _ Shit, what if the dude hates us?  _ “Think you can buy him cotton candy?” continued Dick, oblivious. 

The man cocked his head. “I don’t know. I can’t tell faces. Acrobats are all the way up there and I’m all the way down here.”

Jason pulled out of Dick’s grasp. “We’re going to be late for the fireworks if we waste time in line,” he excused. 

Dick checked the sky, as if fireworks might actually be happening right now. “Damn. You’re right. Nice to meet you!” he said to the man, somehow wiggling his hand into Jason’s again.

“Hey, boy!” the man called. Jason looked at him over his shoulder as Dick marched ahead. “Better late than never!” The man pointed to their clasped hands. Jason turned away without a word. There was no way in hell a stranger would see him _ blush. _

They were out of Haly’s Circus when Jason said, “You’re embarrassing.”

They walked faster now that the crowd wasn’t in their way. “I love your shampoo, too,” replied Dick. 

“Right,” intoned Jason. “The whole substitution thing. That’s going to get old, just so you know. In fact, it’s old right now.” The first couple streaks of red shot through the air, making keening noises until they exploded with shuddering thunder above their heads.

“I couldn’t have summarized better the latest episode of  _ Say Yes to the Dress.”  _ Dick and Jason picked up the pace until they were running for the camp spots. 

“The joke has _ wrinkles, _ Dick. Cut it out,” Jason reprimanded, sneakers hitting the pavement at full speed. Small fireworks adorned the sky like flower petals.

A fair distance from the circus was a grassy field shrouded in trees that Dick had scoped out the previous day. It was on an incline so that they could see the higher fireworks, and no one else was likely to show up. With the finish line in sight, they broke apart and dashed forward. Dick beat him by an inch, extending his arms heavenwards in victory. “We have arrived,” he announced dramatically. 

Jason did jazz hands as he rolled his eyes. “Woo,” he said flatly. Another round of fireworks crackled.

Dick strut past him and settled into the green.  _ “Love  _ the energy, baby.” He pointed at Jason like a musician singling out a fan magnanimously. “You’re number one.” 

Jason plopped onto the grass beside him. “Fuck yeah, I am.” Dick smiled and nudged their knees together, teasing. In typical Gotham fashion, the city was void of stars. But when the white fireworks launched and fragmented into a thousand tiny sparks, they were stars in their own right. They were away from the circus, away from traffic, away from all sounds except the crackling sky and Dick’s murmured praise. Skinny gold fireworks rocketed skywards and twisted together, fracturing just above the trees and fizzing like shaken-up pop down a soda glass. 

Another firework was released, this one immense in size, and it bloomed across the sky in blue and red seeds. “Wow,” Dick breathed, and his hand came up to gently shake Jason’s shoulder. Jason’s eyes followed the long knuckles to the lean arms to the curve of Dick’s neck. The condoms and the lotion Jason had hurriedly stuffed in his pockets suddenly weighed a hundred pounds. Jason thought of all the places he could kiss him — the dip of his throat, the top of his brow, the dimples in his lower back, the soft skin between his thighs — and leaned for his lips. 

Dick immediately turned towards him, like he had been waiting for Jason to make a move. His entire body seemed to open up, inviting Jason deeper into the kiss. Dick’s nails scratched the nape of his neck, combing through his hair. They kissed slow, Jason mouthing down Dick’s neck. Dick tipped his head backwards and Jason followed, crawling between Dick’s spread legs. Fireworks continued to thunder in the background, but the rumbles quieted as Jason become increasingly aware of Dick’s breathing and the fluttering of his eyes and the beating of his heart. 

Dick laid all the way back on the grass. His hair swam around his face in dark and wild waves. How did Jason get someone so beautiful? Dick lowered Jason on top of him, hands slipping beneath Jason’s shirt to rub his back. His nails carved shallow patterns into Jason’s skin. His breath hitched when Dick’s nails raked his sides, an electric zap that jolted his heart rate. Jason unfastened Dick’s bow tie, discarding i. He kissed along Dick’s jaw, sucking beneath his chin. That elicited a soft moan. Jason pulled back to look at him. Dick’s eyes were half-lidded as he laughed, low and self-conscious. “That was — that was good, Jay.”

Jason licked his lips. “Yeah?” he asked. 

Dick was smiling. His fingers left Jason’s sides to stroke the nape of his neck. “Yeah,” he murmured, hot breath tickling Jason’s ear. Jason felt his cock harden at the light, teasing touches. Dick’s fingers were whispers of contact that crept under his clothes and caressed his skin for moments at a time. Like air: gentle, cool, elusive. 

Jason wanted more. Straddling Dick, he pulled off his shirt and tossed it on the ground. Then he grabbed Dick’s hands and rested them on his hips. Dick rubbed him there, along the sides of his torso, while Jason pushed up Dick’s tank top and planted kisses all the way up. Dick quickly sat up to take his shirt off. Jason immediately grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head, pushing him back on the ground. Dick glanced up at his bound hands. “Nice touch,” he complimented. 

Jason held onto Dick’s hands as he kissed beneath his chin again. Dick was breathing heavier. “You know,” Dick said, a little labored, “we should try this with rope sometimes. Or, um, handcuffs.” The last word was carried off in a moan. “I think you’d be really good at that. At tying me up. Maybe — shit.” Jason began grinding against the growing tent in Dick’s shorts.  _ “God, _ Jay. Okay. Planning. Did you bring — ?”

Jason released Dick’s hands and impatiently dug through his pockets for the condoms and lube. He pulled them out and waved them in proof. Dick held his head up to see, nodded in confirmation, and then dropped his head down again. “So, we’re doing this then,” he stated. 

Jason faltered, gyrations pausing. “That’s what you want, right?” 

Dick sat up. “Definitely,” he said, popping Jason’s jeans open and yanking the zipper down. It felt amazing to be wanted so concretely, to be  _ told _ he was wanted without a shadow of a doubt. Jason fumbled out of his pants and boxers while Dick selected a condom and removed the wrapper. His long eyelashes dusted his high cheekbones and, inspired, Jason kissed him on the lips as yet another firework struck the vibrant sky. When they ended the kiss, Dick’s face was lit in euphoria. 

“Up,” directed Dick, motioning for Jason to get off him. “I need my pants to go.”

Jason complied. They kicked off their shoes and Jason watched as Dick pulled off his shorts. Jason didn’t wait for him to finish. He helped Dick out of his boxers. “Superman  _ again?”  _ he commented, running his palms along Dick’s inner thighs.

_ “Ah.”  _ Dick jerked his legs inwards before relaxing. He spread out his legs again, welcoming Jason’s touch. Jason bent down and bit the inside of his thigh.  _ “Nng. _ He’s super,” Dick justified, voice strained. Jason sucked a bruise into the smooth skin, thumb kneading the flesh on the opposite thigh. Dick’s hand clenched in Jason’s hair. It kind of hurt, but then Dick bit out, “You’re so  _ good, _ Jason.” Heat shot straight to his cock and the tugging in his hair suddenly felt like the best thing in the world. “You’re doing a great job,” Dick promised huskily, and Jason was _ burning, burning, burning.  _

Dick readjusted. “Hold on, let me put this on.” Jason gave him room while Dick rolled the condom on. Then Dick grabbed the bottle and squeezed lubrication on his fingers. He slung an arm over Jason’s shoulder and stuck his other hand between Jason’s legs. Jason tensed when Dick smeared the lotion over his hole. “Shh,” Dick hushed, almost absently, and worked a finger inside Jason. Jason gritted his teeth and held onto Dick as he was carefully stretched. “You okay?” Dick asked. 

That was a good question. There was some pain, though not an overwhelming amount. Mostly he felt weird. He wanted to skip the good part, if that was possible. “I will be if you get on with it,” he grumbled. 

Dick chuckled breathily. “Alright, alright,” he placated, adding another finger. Jason’s grip on Dick’s shoulder tightened, bracing for whatever else might sting. “Tell me what to do; if anything comes to mind, just say it,” Dick offered. 

“You’ll be the first to know,” Jason grunted. Dick rested his head on Jason’s shoulder. His laughter brushed against his skin. It was nice, and Jason’s eyes gradually closed as Dick peppered kisses on his neck and behind his ear. By the third finger, Jason was rocking up and down. He took the pain in stride and was relieved when the pleasure became more noticeable than the ache. 

Dick nuzzled behind Jason’s ear. “You’re doing so well,” he informed, dragging his teeth over the shell. Jason keened. It was good. This was good. 

“Okay,” he started, “I want to lie down.” Dick nodded, pulling his fingers out. Jason reclined onto the grass. He enjoyed the coolness of the blades, how they caressed his back like feathers. Dick climbed on top of him. They were both fiercely hard, and Dick rubbed their dicks against each other briefly. Jason groaned, back arching, and that was _ too _ much. He didn’t want to finish this way. Jason batted Dick’s hand away.

Dick kissed him instead with tongue, sucking on Jason’s bottom lip and panting. “What do you want?” he repeated, words fitting in the centimeters between their mouths. Jason breathed through his nose and tried not to cum. “Come on, Jay, you can tell me. You were doing so well.”

God, Dick wasn’t making self-control easy. “I just want you inside before I cum, okay?” he snapped.

Dick’s eyes widened, caught off-guard, until he grinned. It wasn’t even a smooth smirk, just goofy and happy. Jason would make fun of him, if he could force anything coherent into a sentence. “That’s totally okay,” approved Dick, giving him a quick peck on the lips. Dick positioned himself at Jason’s hole and slowly, slowly,  _ slowly  _ pressed in. Jason moaned, long and loud, feeling himself stretch around Dick. Once all the way in, Dick kissed Jason’s ear and bit lobe. Jason’s entire body felt on fire, even with the grass beneath him and the night air on his stomach. Dick set up a rhythm of  _ in _ and  _ out.  _

Jason was panting, too, now. “Are you close?” he asked.  _ Please,  _ may Dick be close. Jason was not going to last. As if in synchrony, the fireworks were at a rapid and booming pace now, right on top of each other with an impressive spectrum of colors.

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Dick replied, pushing in, and Jason laughed at him. Dick smiled when Jason did, a faint blush on his defined cheeks. Then he moaned, and the sound was incredibly hot. Jason could tell already that he was going to be sore as fuck later, but he couldn’t think of a worthier cause than getting fucked by Dick Grayson. Jason came with a shudder seconds after Dick came with a strangled cry. Dick collapsed on top of him, catching his breath before rolling to the side. 

Jason stared up at the sky, but there didn’t seem to be any more fireworks in store. Jason turned his head. Dick was scrunching his nose in distaste as he peeled off the condom and threw it with a swing of disdain. Jason smirked, amused, until Dick settled into the crook of his arm and rested his head on Jason’s sweaty chest. Dick’s hair was tangled and slightly damp. Cricket chirps had replaced the fireworks. Jason soothed circles into Dick shoulders with his thumb and thought of those tiny trays of sand with tiny matching rakes. The ones sold on eBay with tags like “zen” and “therapeutic.” He wondered if they were half as relaxing as Dick resting in his arms as he pretended the blinking signal towers were stars. 

They stayed like that for a while, just watching the sky and breathing in unison. For whatever reason, it felt right this should happen in Gotham of all cities. His heart was with Dick, with Haly’s Circus, but Gotham had a pulse all its own that called out to him. Maybe it wasn’t his ghost, but there was a part of Jason that lived here. He was glad to share it with Dick. 

Jason’s stomach growled eventually, provoking Dick’s laughter. Gradually they felt more muggy than blissed-out, so they initiated the process of detaching and collecting their clothes. The shower became Jason’s most urgent short-term goal with food close behind. He fantasized about hot water as he zipped his jeans. Dick was fixing his tie when Jason remarked, “I still can’t believe you wore a bow tie with a muscle tee.”

Dick stared forlornly at the used condom on the ground. “Aw, baby,” he gushed, tearing his gaze from the trash,  _ “you’re  _ magnificent in bed.” For a moment, Jason had absolutely no clue what he was talking about. The compliment was apropos of nothing. Then it clicked and he narrowed his eyes. Substitution. 

“That’s it,” declared Jason, pulling on his sneakers. “The joke is dead, and we’re just standing around it like sick necrophiliac fucks.” 

“Fine, fine,” Dick relented, grinning. “I’ll put it out of its misery. Happy?”

Jason walked up to kiss him briefly on the lips. “Ecstatic.”

“Jay, look!” Dick pointed past him. Jason turned around and gazed upwards. Broadcasted in the sky was the bat-signal.

Jason huffed a laugh and thought,  _ What do you know. _

Dick cocked his head curiously and smirked. “Why don’t we pay our friend a visit? We’ve got a whole other day before Haly’s hits the road.”

“Shower first,” Jason stipulated. 

Dick tisked. “He’ll be done by then!” 

Jason snorted. “It’s Gotham. Crime has its own rotation schedule.”

Dick evaluated the bat-signal, arms crossed. Then he took a deep breath and took off on his heels for Haly’s. “Last one appropriately clothed for vigilantism is a rotten bat!” he shouted. Jason hurriedly scooped up the condoms and bottle of lotion. He piled them in his pockets and ran after him.

“Do you think it’s another robot, or just a robbing?” Dick was already a solid distance away. Whatever he said was garbled. He was like an impulsive, excitable puppy dog.

Jason tried his best to catch up. “What about a robin?” he yelled back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Thanks for the comments and the kudos! Thanks for everyone who participated in jaydick week, as well as thanks for everyone who just really likes jaydick. I respect good taste.
> 
> xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> So, the last chapter may be particularly delayed. I'm going on a vacation for two or three days. I will have wifi, but you know how vacations are. You have to do things in the outside world.


End file.
